Survival of the Fittest
by WillowRavenBloodstone
Summary: Ever since she was shot in the head, Courier Number Six had searched the Mojave, looking for answers. She'd get them, but not in the way she imagined. Along for the ride is a moody First Recon sniper, a man who claims to be her brother, and a Followers doctor who seemed to think of her as a research project.
1. Prologue

There was little sound coming from her room in the suite. The occasional metal pieces clicking together, a stiff brush scraping inside the barrel of a rifle, or the sound of something moving against carpet as Six adjusted her position on the floor. She was methodically cleaning her guns, first her pistols, the weathered 10mm she carried with her almost always, the silenced .22 holdout she kept for the Strip's casinos, and her .357 she used when she wanted to be intimidating. Next came her assault carbine, a fairly common companion on her travels when she needed some good mid-range firepower. Last came the biggest of her weapons, the anti-materiel rifle she had coveted since she first spotted it at the Gun Runner's shop. When she could finally afford the hefty price, she purchased it and almost more ammo than she could carry. It took her the longest to clean, although whether it was because it was the largest or because it was her favorite, no one ever figured out.

It was almost time. Time to take the fight to them, to make them pay for every family broken, every mother captured and enslaved, every child killed, every brother murdered. And there was no doubt in Six's mind as to who would come with her on this suicide mission.

In the other rooms, activity could be heard. Lily was in the kitchen, cooking something for her grandchildren. No one ever complained, as the food was mostly good and always edible. Raul kept her company, the two of them getting along better than anyone would have expected, although Six figured it was because they were similar in both age and situation, although Raul did seem to still be playing with a full deck of cards.

Outside the door, ED-E hovered quietly, although no one ever did know what the eyebot did in its spare time. Six adored the thing and had cleaned and polished the metal to a gleaming finish every time they returned from an adventure, and had done so just yesterday. It waited patiently for Six to call on it again.

In the spare room, Veronica and Arcade could be heard, although their discussion wasn't clear to Six. It was likely they were keeping quiet, as Cass tended to sleep after returning from whatever bar she felt like going to that particular day. To Six's knowledge, Cass had been at the Atomic Wrangler today and was sleeping off the undoubtedly immense amount of alcohol she consumed.

Rex entered Six's room just as she finished cleaning her anti-materiel rifle and moved to lay down at her side, resting his head on his paws. Six glanced over at the cyberdog and studied the bull painted on his side for a moment. Rex lifted his head and looked at her and then pulled her out of her thoughts with a soft bark. She patted the dog briefly, who wagged his tail happily, and then turned back to her rifle and began to reassemble it.

As she finished putting the rifle out, she called to her last companion. While she waited for him to arrive, she loaded rounds into a magazine for the rifle, eight large .50 MG rounds. She knew she wouldn't hear him as he approached from wherever he was in the suite, but still she managed to look up just as he appeared in the doorway. She loaded the magazine into the rifle and set it across her lap.

"Is it time?" Boone asked, his own rifle slung across his back, ready for action. She met his eyes behind the sunglasses he wore and nodded.

"It's time."


	2. One For My Baby

_"From where you're kneeling it must seem like an 18-carat run of bad luck._

_But, truth is...the game was rigged from the start."_

Courier Six's eyes shot open and her fingers scrambled for her gun before she was fully conscious. The weatherbeaten 10mm pistol cool in her grasp, she took a few deep breaths to settle herself. The only sound around her was the quietness of the desert at night. Her fire had gone out ages ago, leaving just a few coals smoldering, their orange glow the only thing besides the half-moon above giving her light. She was alone.

And having nightmares. Well, she supposed that was only to be expected. Surviving a gunshot wound to the head wasn't something people commonly experienced, so there was no telling what side effects would occur, besides the ones that had already been apparent. Nightmares and amnesia, the latter which would likely never go away entirely, according to Doc Mitchell. Sure, she remembered some things, probably the important ones, like how to read and write, how to shoot a gun (which was something she was apparently quite good at, come to find out), and how to speak English, but she had forgotten other things. Like her name, who she was. All she knew was what was on her paperwork. Courier number six, to deliver the platinum poker chip to Mr House on the New Vegas Strip.

Well, that was one job that wasn't going to be completed anytime soon. Some asshole in a checkered coat had decided to brain her and run off with it. She didn't know why, as that small amount of platinum couldn't be worth all that much. She supposed she'd find out when she caught up to the crappily-dressed bastard (checkered coat, really?). If she ever did.

Sighing, Six reached over and tried to bring life back to her fire, stoking it and adding a few pieces of tinder to it. The Mojave was almost unbearable during the day, but at night, it was another kind of unbearable. Turns out, she didn't like cold all that much. The armored vault jumpsuit she had was good cover during the day, shielding most of her skin from the harsh rays of the sun, but at night, it did nothing to keep her warm. The light blanket she had pilfered from some old house did a little, but with a fire, she'd warm right back up. Checking the time on her Pip-Boy, she discovered morning was just over the horizon, so it was time to get some breakfast made so she could travel and hopefully find some shelter to wait out the harshest point of the day.

She was currently camped out in a raided farmstead after clearing the area of Vipers who had claimed it for their own. Honestly, she would have just moved on and found another place to rest, (possibly going back up to Wolfhorn Ranch) had they not started shooting at her. They had, and it was apparently second nature to her, because she drew her pistol and fired until her pistol was empty and six raiders were dead. She didn't even have to think. It was a bit scary, but she didn't want to dwell too much on it. She was tired, so she pulled the bodies away, after pocketing anything useful they had on them, and set up camp as the sun set.

Her plan for the day was to try and make it to Novac, a little settlement north of her position if the map markers on her Pip-Boy were anything to go by. If she got moving soon, she'd make it there in good time. She pulled some food out of her pack, grimacing at the pink, congealed mass of Cram that was in the can she opened. She'd love something that wasn't pre-war, but she wasn't likely to find a fresh brahmin steak out here in the middle of nowhere, so she dealt with it, mixing it in some Mac and Cheese she also had in her pack. It wasn't bad, and by the time she was done with breakfast, the sun had come up. Time to move on.

She kicked sand over the fire to smother it and shouldered her pack. Her plan was to follow the road up to Novac, as according to her map, it'd make it quick and easy, even though it made her more of a target. She seemed to be quick on her feet though (she was a courier, after all) and hopefully she could avoid too much trouble.

Travelling during the early morning was easily the best time of day to travel. The air was still cool, and occasionally there were a few critters out and about for her to pick off and grab something for later. Geckos weren't her preferred meal, but it was better than 200 year old canned...meat. There wasn't anything out this morning, and a more superstitious person would see this as an omen, but Six continued on, glad to be making good time.

A few hours passed as she walked, singing along happily to the songs on New Vegas radio (somehow she knew the words to most of them) and not caring if there was anyone around to hear how horribly off-key she was.

"You saw me standing alone, without a dream in my heart…" She trailed off as she spotted movement in her peripheral vision. Her hand immediately went to the pistol at her waist as she turned to get a better look. Crimson. Shit. Dealing with Caesar's Legion was not high on her to-do list today, and she doubted she even had the firepower to handle the five of them. Sure, she had put the Vipers down no problem, but they were drugged up and probably half crazy to begin with. The Legionaries were just crazy. And better armored. They were closer than she liked, but they hadn't noticed her yet, so maybe she could just hurry off.

Almost as one, the five of them turned towards her. Of course she couldn't get lucky. She had to have the shittiest luck in New Vegas, and if she got out of this, she'd never press her luck gambling, because she sure as hell wasn't going to win. Well, they wanted a fight, but she wasn't about to let them take her as a slave. She'd put another bullet in her brain first, and hope that creepy securitron named Victor would drag her back to the doctor again.

Drawing her pistol and wishing she had the foresight to have her varmint rifle holstered instead of secured in her pack, she took aim. Best to drop as many as she could before they got too close. She dropped two before they got close enough to her that she had to start ducking their machetes. A third one went down when she ducked under his ambitious swing and pressed her gun to his chin and pulled the trigger.

Six went down feeling like a boulder had landed on her when one of the remaining two Legionaries tackled her to the ground, screaming something about profligates and whores. She assumed that was her and pushed him off her after slamming her knee up and hitting something particularly delicate on a man, judging by his rather high pitched scream. Thankfully, she managed to keep her grip on her pistol and finding the other Legionary charging them, she pulled the trigger until it was empty. The other one wasn't going anywhere anytime soon, so she quickly reloaded and dealt with him too.

She laid there on the road for a moment, breathing in deep lungfuls of air, her heart hammering away in her chest. An almost-hysterical laugh bubbled out of her as she marveled over her survival. NCR troopers didn't manage this half the time, and somehow she did. Quickly she sobered though, as she began to ponder her past again. What kind of skills did she have that allowed her to survive this? Who was she?

"Way to go, brain. Ruin the moment." Six muttered, pushing herself up and looking at the bodies around her. Well, at the very least, she'd have a few things to sell and get herself some new gear, as one of them managed to get at least a glancing blow on her. With her adrenaline spiked during the fight, she didn't feel the pain of it, but now she felt the ooze of blood dripping down her back from a shallow slice on her shoulder. Pain flared as she acknowledged the wound, and she sighed. She wasn't going to make it to Novac with it like that, so she rooted around in her pack until she found her only stimpack and injected it into her thigh. It'd allow the wound to clot and begin to stitch itself up, and hopefully there was a doc in Novac that could take a look at it for her.

Quickly picking through the dead bodies for anything useful, Six made her way to Novac, this time keeping a closer eye on the roads. She didn't want to deal with another raiding party. Or even a bloatfly, for that matter. It was still early in the day, but now all she wanted to do was get her wound patched up and rest.

Seeing the dinosaur that marked the little settlement of Novac was a relief. Glancing up she noticed that there was someone sitting in the mouth of the dinosaur with a rifle. Not a bad little sniper perch, good for protecting the town from whatever wandered in, although there was a massive blind spot behind the dinosaur. She wondered how they figured that part out.

There were a few others wandering around the town, and Six walked (staggered might have been a more appropriate term, her shoulder was now on fire and she was insanely thirsty but her canteen had been empty for the past two hours and she hadn't come across any water sources) towards the town feeling fatigue hit her like a ton of bricks.

"Hey, are you alright?" A voice came down from the mouth of the dinosaur as she approached and she looked up to see a man in a red beret peeking over the side. She felt like she should know the red beret from somewhere, but right now all she wanted was to sit down, drink two thirds of the whiskey bottle she had stashed in her pack, and wait for this to heal. Another stimpack, a few bandages, and she'd be right as rain. Even better would be a doctor and some stitches, as she wasn't a fan of the side effects that came from stimpack use, but she'd take what she'd get.

"I think I'll live. You wouldn't happen to have a doctor around here, would you?" She called back, stopping just below him. "Or maybe someone who sells medical supplies."

"Uh...there's Doctor Strauss, but you'd be better off with a bottle of whiskey and trying to stitch it up yourself. Geckos catch you?" That wasn't the answer she wanted to hear. If the residents of this town didn't trust the doctor, she wasn't about to.

"Ran into some Legionaries this morning. One of them got a bit lucky." She replied, really wishing she could sit down.

"Hey, Jeannie! Come over here for a sec!" The man in the dinosaur called, and unable to stand it anymore, she let her pack slip off her shoulders and drop to the ground with a groan. She sat down in the middle of the street, pulling her bag across her lap and looking for the bottle of purified water she knew was in there somewhere.

"Oh! You look exhausted! Come on, lets get you out of the sun." An older woman said, coming outside of the gated area, followed by a man wearing what looked like Ranger armor. Later, laying in bed, she'd wonder why she knew what a Ranger was doing out here. For now, she allowed herself to be lifted off the ground and brought into the lobby of the Dino Dee-lite motel. The couch she sank into was lovely, but she leaned forward, not wanting to lean back and bloody up the furniture.

The woman was talking, but she was only half listening. It seemed like she was talking to the Ranger anyhow, a man named Andy. "...good thing that we have Manny and Craig, but I'm not sure how long Craig is going to stick around. He's still torn up over his wife, poor thing."

"Legion's getting bolder, and I don't like it. I don't think Craig would up and leave us though, not without a good reason. He's got a protection streak a mile wide." Andy replied, and Six only gave them her full attention when a cup of water was pressed into her hands.

"Here you go. Drink this, it's a hot one out today." Jeannie said, and Six sighed gratefully when she drained the cup. It wasn't anywhere near cold, but it was still a relief. She hadn't noticed at the time, but she was moving quickly to get to Novac, quicker than she should have with an injury. She'd love to rest, and then she could make her next move. The whole reason why she was here was that that scumbag who shot her had moved through here, or at least that's what she was told. She could find out.

"Thanks so much. I wasn't expecting the Legion, but I probably should have. Um, there isn't a room free, by chance? I'd love to wash up and get some rest. And if anyone could let me know where I could get some stimpacks or at least some Med-X, I'd appreciate it too." Six said, passing the cup back to Jeannie. If there wasn't, she'd deal with it. She had a feeling that before she was shot in the head, she spent a lot of time outdoors.

"Of course. Got a room all ready for you. A hundred caps and it's yours." Jeannie said, and Six looked around for her pack. Andy had brought it in for her and set it down next to her. Inside, there was a hidden pocket where Six kept a small sum of caps. Counting out the amount she needed, she passed them over to the woman and stood, doing her best to ignore her body protesting the movement.

"Cliff Briscoe, over in the gift shop, might have a few stimpacks for you." Andy told her as she tugged her pack onto her uninjured shoulder. She'd go find him after she put her things down. And maybe got a bath.

Jeannie gave Six the room key, and without any other delays, Six made her way up to the motel room. It was small, but at least she had a bathroom with water. Her pack abandoned on the floor by the bed, she went into the bathroom and ran the water. It'd hurt, but keeping the wound clean would be a good thing, and she wanted to wash the dust off before she slept in a bed.

The stimpack she injected earlier had done a lot in healing it, but there was still a long way to go before it was fully healed, and it'd definitely leave a scar. She was able to get a look at it in the dirty mirror over the sink, and she sighed. Well, she wasn't planning on entering any beauty contests. Tugging her brown hair free of the knot it was in, she stepped into the tub and began to wash herself. This was a luxury, she knew, and didn't mind when she couldn't get a bath for a few days on the road, but for now, she allowed herself to be pleased once she crawled out of the tub and saw clean skin.

Wrapped in a towel that was dingy with age, she dropped onto the bed to relax a moment, trying to plan her next move. The mattress was more comfortable than the rock and dirt she slept on last night, and before she realized it, she had dozed off.

She woke a few hours later, momentarily disoriented. Then her wound gave a helpful stab of pain, and she remembered where she was. She stretched and sat up, looking towards the window. The light filtering through the curtains told her that the sun was setting outside, and she wondered if she could get anything done today.

Well, she wasn't going to get anything done naked. She hopped off the bed and went to her pack to fish out the clothing she had, a simple red dress and white apron. It had a satchel too, but she didn't wear it, as her pack gave her all the storage she needed. The dress would suit until she could stitch up the slash in her vault suit. Or until someone else could, as she wasn't sure if she could sew.

She tugged on her boots and tied up her hair to keep it out of the way. And then she yawned, still tired. It seemed like she still wasn't 100% after being shot in the head, which was annoying, but she'd deal. She'd go see if the gift shop was still open, buy a few supplies, and then go back to bed. She wanted to be at the top of her game when she met up with the asshole that shot her.

Outside, the air was still warm, but as the sun sank towards the horizon, the heat of the desert was tempered by the chill night air approaching. It'll be good to have a place indoors to sleep tonight. The people of Novac moved about, completing their last errands for the day before retreating inside. It was almost peaceful, and for a second, Six allowed herself to imagine what it'd be like to live in a small community like this.

Approaching the dinosaur that held the gift shop, the man in the beret that she saw earlier came out of the door, a rifle slung over his back. He smiled when he saw her, dropping off the platform in front of the door and walking towards her.

"Hey, it's good to see you up and moving around. You looked pretty peaked earlier. I take it you got some rest?" He said, and she shrugged. She could have slept a bit longer, but she had some things to take care of.

"Yeah, and I'll probably find a stimpack or two and sleep through the night too. Running is exhausting, I have no ideas why I decided being a courier was a good idea." It was one of those things she wished she could remember. It was probably one of those things she wouldn't remember, given her luck lately.

"Is that what brought you to Novac? A package to deliver?" The sniper asked. She wished it was that simple.

"No, actually. I'm looking for the guy who shot me. Couple of people in Primm told me to check this way, heard he was coming through here. All I know is he wears a checkered coat." She replied and saw a brief flicker of recognition. So he had passed through here.

"Yeah, he might have. I could tell you a bit more, but you have to do something for me first." He told her. She scowled. Of course.

"No, not what you're thinking. Listen, Novac is home for me. I'd like to keep it safe, but I can't leave my post during the day, and I need to get my rest at night. Up there at the REPCONN test facility, there are a bunch of ghouls that come down and bother the town. Take care of them for me, and I can tell you more about your friend." He hastened to add, obviously realizing where her thoughts were taking her.

Well. Ghouls were easier to deal with than fending off unwanted advances from a guy with a gun. She could handle that easy enough. It wasn't like she hadn't dealt with enough trouble in Primm. In fact, ghouls were probably easier.

"Yeah, I'll see what I can do about it. Not tonight, I'm gonna rest up. But first light, I'll head up there and take a look." She decided and he smiled in relief. They parted ways and she headed into the shop, hoping the owner hadn't decided to close up. Thankfully he hadn't, and she bought a couple of stimpacks and sold some of the other junk she had accumulated throughout her short trip. Cliff Briscoe was a nice man, and they chatted for a little while about the shop and the dinosaur.

As she turned to leave, intending to go find something to eat, the door opened and another person entered. At first, she thought it was the sniper from before, and then she turned to get a better look. It was a different man, but they wore the same beret and had similar rifles, although his scope looked a hell of a lot better than the other's did.

"Evening, Boone." Cliff said, but the man was silent, giving Six a long stare before moving up to the post at the top of the building.

"Oh, don't mind him too much. He hasn't been the same since his wife disappeared, and I can't say I blame him. He's taking it pretty hard, but he's young." It seems like this wasn't quite the peaceful town she thought it was a few minutes ago. Sighing to herself, she thanked Cliff for his time and made her way up the stairs to talk to the other sniper.

She opened the door and he whirled around, his rifle forgotten and his hand going to the sheathe for the machete strapped to his waist. When he saw it was just her, he dropped his hand and glared.

"Goddammit. Don't sneak up on me like that. What do you want?" Boone demanded. Six glanced between his face and his hands before answering, making sure he still wasn't going to pull the thing out and decapitate her. She didn't think Doc Mitchell could fix that.

"Was I supposed to knock? Sorry. I was just looking around." She lifted her hands, partly in apology and partly to show she was unarmed.

"Nothing to see up here."He turned away from her, picking up his rifle again and putting his eye to the scope to scan the horizon. Night was falling quickly, and she wasn't quite sure how he could see, but the moon was bright tonight, so he'd have a few hours of good light to see by.

"There's a sniper. And a hell of a view." Six remarked, looking past the sniper out at the wasteland.

"I think you should go." He said to her and she sighed. Grumpy bastard. She turned to leave.

"No, wait. You just arrived in town. Maybe you shouldn't go. Not yet." He spoke up as she reached for the doorknob. Looking back around to face him, she wondered what he wanted her help with. Maybe to find his wife?

"Mixed signals will get you nowhere, my friend." Six said and watched as the moody sniper rolled his eyes. She really should learn when the appropriate time was for humor.

"I need someone I can trust. You're a stranger. It's a start." He looked like he was considering something now. She wondered why he could only trust strangers, and then her mind began to work too.

"What do you need?" She asked, hoping she didn't sound sarcastic or anything. It was likely that he wanted to find his wife, and while she wasn't all that great at tracking, she was doing a good job at following the other bastard's trail. Finding someone who stole a woman couldn't be too hard, could it?

"This town, no one looks me in the eye anymore. I want you to find something for me. I don't know if there's anything to find, but i need someone to try. My wife was taken from our home by Legion slavers one night while I was on watch. They knew when to come and what route to take, and they only took Carla. Someone set it up. I don't know who."

"But you want me to find out. Or am I looking for your wife?" Six asked. She could do both if she had to. He sounded really broken up over it. Although less sad, more angry. She'd be too, in his shoes.

"My wife's dead. I want the son of a bitch who sold her." He spit out harshly and she couldn't help but flinch. She didn't question him though. He clearly knew. The Legion didn't treat women kindly, and he knew his wife better than anyone else would. Maybe she'd take her own life rather than live as a slave? Or would she get herself killed while a slave? Six knew that her smart mouth would more than likely make her life very short if captured by the Legion.

"What's the plan then?"

* * *

A few hours later, Six brought Jeannie May Crawford out in front of the dinosaur. She had begun investigating immediately, picking up on the intense emotions the sniper was projecting. She started to feel angry at the loss too, as if she had known the woman. It upset her, so she resolved to find the bastard quickly. No one was above suspicion, it seemed, so she started searching the places that were empty for the night, like the lobby of the motel. Turns out, she didn't have to search far, as the safe behind the counter held a bill of sale for one Carla Boone and an unborn child. Six could barely keep a lid on her rage. How dare she sell someone? She didn't care why it was done, she just knew that the old bitch had to pay.

Getting the woman out of bed with a tale of an emergency in front of the dinosaur was easy. The darkness hid the red beret that Six held, ready to put it on as soon as they were in range.

"What's out here? It's late, can it wait until tomorrow?" Jeannie asked and Six grinned viciously and placed the beret on her head.

Jeannie's own head exploded, and the light wind blew a mist of blood onto Six's face. She didn't mind. The bitch was dead now, and Carla could rest easy in whatever afterlife she believed in.

Six made her way up to Boone, who was leaning over the mouth of the dinosaur, staring down at the body.

"How did you know?" He asked once she closed the door behind her. Six fished out the bill of sale out of her pocket and passed it to the sniper.

"I found this. I'm sorry." Six said simply, and waited for him to speak again.

"Huh. Would be like them to keep paperwork." He studied it and then folded it neatly and slid it into his pocket. Undoubtedly he wanted to find the other two names on the paper and kill them too, and Six decided then that she would help.

"What will you do now?"

"I don't know. There's nothing left for me here. Maybe I'll wander, like you." He slung the rifle over his back.

"You've got no reason to, but how about you come with me? I could use a good gun to watch my back. I'd really like to not get shot in the head again." Or get sliced up by Legionaries, or chewed on by a gecko in the middle of the night.

"You don't want that." There was a momentary stab of annoyance when he said that. Who was he to tell her what she wanted? She let it go though, it wasn't worth arguing over.

"I thought snipers worked in teams."

"Yeah. When you're on your own, you're a lot less effective. I've been there and paid for it. But this isn't going to end well. Come on, lets get out of here." He said and Six smiled at him.

"I have a feeling it'll end better than you think. Lets go. Since you're abandoning your post, let's go take care of those ghouls at REPCONN before I take you away from here and make things easier for your other sniper friend." She had wanted to rest before, but with the adrenaline from the kill (that wasn't even hers) she didn't think she could. They could rest once the ghouls were taken care of, and then get on the road.

Having someone travel the wasteland with her made her feel better about her chances at finding the checkered coat wearing bastard. Maybe she wasn't so unlucky after all.


	3. Doctor, Doctor

"You're getting to be a regular sight around here, Mickey."

Mickey had to agree. It wasn't his fault though, people didn't seem to like when he kicked their ass at caravan, so they kicked his ass literally. Or, they tried to. He was usually pretty good at defending himself, but sometimes his opponent got lucky. Or, like tonight, they had a whole lot less to drink than he had accounted for.

"I know. It's the only place around that'll patch me up this late. Julie awake?" Mickey said to the guard sitting by the front gate, ignoring the pain from his split lip. His broken collarbone was the bigger issue.

"Nah, she went to bed hours ago. Was up for almost 40 hours helping a woman in labor. I think most of the doctors are out. Arcade might still be up though." Guard pulled himself from his chair and looked Mickey over again. Mickey grinned and hoped he looked charming, but it was hard to look charming when your eye was swelling shut and your lip was trickling blood down your shirt.

Mickey had a half formed thought about trying to hit on the guard, and then thought better of it. Sure, he was part of the Followers, but it didn't mean he wouldn't take offense if he was straight and start swinging. Deciding to hold his tongue, he followed the guard into the camp quietly. He hadn't ever met this other doctor, but Julie spoke highly of him on the few times she was feeling chatty while patching him up after one of his many brawls.

"Hey, Arcade, you're the only one up. Got somebody for you." The guard led Mickey into the tent, and Mickey got a first glance at the doctor that he had heard plenty about.

And he kept looking. Easy on the eyes there, Doctor Arcade.

"What happened to you? Nevermind, I'm not sure I really want to know." Arcade stood from his chair, abandoning his books and papers to examine his patient. Mickey allowed himself to be guided into a chair, letting his eyes wander over the handsome doctor as he did so.

"I...ah, got into a disagreement with a fellow over a card game." He supplied helpfully anyways, grinning again as Arcade shook his head. Wasn't much for bedside manner, it seemed, as he fussed about, cleaning the cut over his eye where his opponent had caught him with a ring, closing the wound with a few small adhesive strips. It'd scar, but Mickey wasn't a stranger to scars.

A damp cloth was pressed to his lip, which instantly began to burn. Mickey flinched and hissed in pain, but a strong hand closed over his uninjured shoulder and pressed him into the chair. In any other situation, Mickey would appreciate what was happening, but right now, his lip was on fire and his collarbone protested the rough treatment.

"Hold still please." Arcade said with a hint of annoyance, dabbing at his lip. Mickey stared up at the doctor with equal annoyance.

"What the hell is on that thing, acid?" Mickey asked as soon as the cloth was removed. Arcade rolled his eyes and set the blooded cloth aside, opening a metal box and removing some supplies.

"Alcohol. I'm disinfecting it before I stitch it closed. I'd rather not waste the stimpack when older methods will do. I'll also need the stimpack later when I deal with your broken collarbone." A needle was sterilized with some of the aforementioned alcohol, and Mickey kept still and quiet while Arcade neatly put four stitches into his lip.

"How do you know about the collarbone?" Mickey asked when the doctor was done, and Arcade just gave him a look, like it should have been obvious. Mickey looked down, and he supposed that it was only a process of elimination at the way he was cradling his arm.

"Please. I'm a doctor. Wait here, I don't have any Med-X in here." Arcade swept out of the tent (there really wasn't any other way to describe it, with the coat and all) and Mickey relaxed into the chair, listening to the radio.

Johnny Guitar ended, and Mr. New Vegas began to launch into the news. This late at night, it was bound to be a repeat of earlier news, but since he hadn't had much of an opportunity, any news would be new to him.

You're listening to Radio New Vegas, your little jukebox in the Mojave Wasteland. I'm Mr. New Vegas, and I'm here for you like news, then you're gonna love our next segment.A package courier found shot in the head near Goodsprings has reportedly regained consciousness, and has made a full recovery. Now that is a delivery service you can count on.

Mickey bolted up from his chair and was moving out of the tent before he had even fully registered the news. His first conscious thought was that he was overreacting. It couldn't possibly be Caroline. Sure, her last package would take her through that area, and she had the world's worst luck, but how many couriers were there? Still, he had to find out. His pain was forgotten.

Or it was, until someone snagged his wrist and jerked him to a halt.

"Where do you think you're going? I'm not done yet." Arcade had his wrist in a viselike grip, and Mickey regretted that he'd likely have to punch the doctor to get free. The man had determination written all over his face.

" My sister. I have to find her." Mickey tugged on his arm, but Arcade wasn't budging.

"What makes this a priority now? Five minutes ago you didn't seem concerned." Arcade flexed his fingers around the wrist, and Mickey wondered how pissed Julie would be when her favorite doctor had a black eye in the morning. Probably wouldn't patch him up after his brawls anymore.

"News story on the radio. Package courier shot in the head? I'd bet every last cap I had that it's her. I need to find her, so I'd appreciate it if you'd let me go so I can get to Goodsprings." Mickey liked this guy, he really did. Well, he liked his looks.

"You're not going to make it to Goodsprings with the amount of pain you'll be in once the alcohol in your system wears off. Plus, judging by your breathing, the bruised ribs will slow you down. The radio report said she had recovered, so if it's your sister, I'm sure she's fine. Let me finish, and you can be on your way in the morning." Arcade was insistently pulling on Mickey's arm, and while Mickey was by no means a small man, Arcade had at least six inches on him, broad shoulders and strong hands that seemed used to manhandling people.

"I can't-" Mickey grunted in pain when Arcade tugged him harder, pulling him back towards the tent. Stubbornly, Mickey planted his feet on the ground, and then regretted his decision when pain flared up again.

"Half an hour and you'll be ready to run off on an ill-advised trip through the desert to find your sister." Mickey stopped struggling then. The rational part of his brain, the part that was mostly clear, was insistent that Caroline was fine. She was a tough kid, and for her to be 'fully recovered' had to mean a doctor somewhere gave her a clean bill of health. Still, he'd like to see for himself, so he'd go by the Mojave Express office in Primm and see what she was up to now. It was a big brother's job to check up on her, isn't it?

"Half an hour. Any longer than that and if you want to treat me, you'll have to follow me." Mickey said, and Arcade offered a satisfied smile. MIckey allowed himself to be led back into the tent again and sat into the chair.

"I'm going to need you to take off your shirt so I can get a look at the bruising." Arcade asked, setting a syringe aside that Mickey recognized as Med-X. Mickey sighed wearily, knowing this would hurt. Still, he couldn't resist a remark. And hell, he could get lucky and piss off this guy enough to be able to escape early.

"I could disrobe completely for a more thorough examination, doctor." Mickey grinned rakishly up at the handsome blonde, and was surprised to see a smirk turn up the corners of the doctor's lips.

"If I wasn't about to inject you with large quantities of possibly mind-altering medications, I might possibly take you up on that offer. Shirt off, please." Arcade turned his blue eyes towards Mickey, who was busy trying to pick his jaw up off the floor. Those blue eyes rolled in their sockets and reached for the hem of Mickey's bloody shirt. Mickey composed himself and managed to get his shirt off mostly by himself.

Dark purple bruises littered his torso, uglier over his left collarbone and down his left side. Booted feet weren't meant to connect with the softer parts of human anatomy, and he was thankful that the men he played cards with had the unspoken rule about no crotch shots.

"They really did a number on you, didn't they?" Arcade muttered and Mickey had to bite back a giggle when the doctor traced his fingers down his ribs. He wasn't ticklish, he insisted, the other man's hands were just cold.

Carefully, Arcade injected the Med-X and Mickey felt a comfortable numbness settling over his body. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to travel like this, but he'd figure something out. He'd had enough training, he should be able to push through this. But as his eyes drooped, he realized he wouldn't be able to.

"Tricked me, you bastard." Mickey slurred, barely feeling it as his ribs were bandaged tightly. There wasn't much Arcade could do about the broken collarbone except inject the stimpack into Mickey's upper left arm and let the chems do their work knitting the bones back together.

"Wouldn't be the first time I've heard that. Come on. An hour of rest will do you good." Mickey was lifted from the chair and guided to a cot set up at the other end of the tent. Dimly Mickey realized that this had to be Arcade's personal tent.

"No...Caroline…"Mickey fell onto the cot, face pressed into the pillow. If he wasn't quite loopy thanks to the Med-X, it would have been painful. His legs dangled off the end and carefully Arcade pulled them onto the mattress. He was attempting to roll onto his back when he felt hands moving across it.

"When you're conscious again, I fully intend to ask you about these." Arcade said and Mickey drifted into unconsciousness, wondering what the cute doctor was talking about.

* * *

Mickey came back to himself thanks to his collarbone throbbing. It wasn't as painful as it could be, so that meant the stimpack was doing its job. He wondered how long he had been out. It was still dark, he noticed, as he looked out the open tent door. However the light was on at the desk, and the blonde doctor from earlier sat at his desk, pen scratching on paper and he wrote notes. Or something. Mickey didn't know. He pushed himself into a sitting position carefully and tested his range of motion on his injured side carefully.

"Drink the water on the bedside table. All of it, if you can, but slowly. One of the unfortunate side effects of stimpack use is dehydration." Arcade ordered, not looking up from his work. Mickey stared at the man for a moment before deciding that sassing one's doctor was never a good idea. He found the cup and sipped at it, the water soothing his parched throat and dry mouth.

"Thanks for patching me up, Doc. I really should get going though." Mickey said after he finished the cup of water. He could drink more at his place while he packed up. Caroline was a capable kid, but he had to be sure.

"Not until I clear you." Arcade turned to look at him then, setting his pen down on the desk. Mickey stood up anyway, fighting the dizziness he knew the doctor was looking for.

"I gave you half an hour. Took more than that." Mickey looked around for his shirt. It was folded neatly at the foot of the cot. It'd stain since he didn't have time to scrub it out. He tugged it on quickly as he could.

"Only because you fell asleep."

"Only because you drugged me."

The two men stared at each other for a long moment and then Arcade shrugged. Mickey smirked and crossed his arms over his chest, ignoring the twinge of pain from his collarbone.

"If you wanted me in bed, Doctor, all you had to do was ask." Mickey patted his pockets to make sure his winnings were still in there (three dozen caps, a hundred NCR dollars and two Legion Denarii) and moved towards the tent flap.

"I'm serious about the second examination, you know." Arcade followed Mickey as he made his way across the Follower's camp and towards the exit. Mickey laughed and kept moving.

"And I'm serious about you having to follow me. She's a kid. Only family I have left. I have to make sure she's alright." Mickey opened the gate and the doctor paused. Mickey kept walking. Either he'd follow Mickey and he'd have a companion for the journey, or he wouldn't and he'd have to take the journey alone. It was a two day trip, as he'd have to go the long way around to avoid the deathclaws that moved in around the quarry at Sloan, but he was quick on his feet. Both he and Caroline were, which was why she chose to be a courier. Well, part of the reason.

"Oh for the love of...give me five minutes." Arcade said, and Mickey stopped and turned around.

"Five minutes, and then I'm gone." Mickey looked at his watch pointedly and chuckled when the doctor disappeared into the camp again. Four and a half minutes later, a flushed Arcade appeared again with a small pack on his back and a plasma pistol at his hip.

"I can hardly let you make this trip alone in your state. Lets go, I'm sure you have things to pack yourself." Arcade insisted and the two continued on.

"Isn't Julie going to be a bit pissed when her favorite doctor disappears on her?" Mickey asked, navigating the streets of Freeside in the light of the moon overhead and the glow from the Strip behind them.

"I left her a note." Arcade said simply, his long strides easily keeping up with Mickey's hurried pace. It didn't take them long to get to Mickey's place, a tiny apartment that was really just two rooms, one of them the bathroom. It was plenty for him though. It used to be Caroline's before she gave it to him. As a courier, she wasn't ever home much.

"Oh, I'm sure she'll love that." Mickey replied sarcastically, digging for his key when they reached his place. It didn't take him long to shove supplies into a pack and gather his own weapon, a nine millimeter pistol, and they were on their way again with his watch telling him it was just past five AM.

"You're my patient and therefore my responsibility. Plus, Julie told me I was going to deliver the next baby, and since there are about four women just ready to pop, I thought I'd get out of there while I still could. I'll go back, apologize, and get stuck in my tent with research again." Arcade said, adjusting his glasses on his face.

"Miracle of life isn't all that pretty, is it? I got to be around when Caroline was born. Saw more of my mother that day than I ever needed to see. Has to be one of the more effective ways to mentally scar a sixteen year old for life." Mickey laughed softly. He wouldn't have traded it for the world though, being the first to hold his baby sister. Had a full head of brown curls and whiskey brown eyes that hadn't changed since that day.

"It's not so much that as...well, sometimes the child doesn't make it. I'd rather deal with the worst of battlefield wounds than have to tell a mother that her child didn't survive." Arcade looked down at the ground as he walked, and Mickey glanced over at the other man.

"Understandable. Is that why you're always stuck in the back and I never got to see you before?" Mickey asked. Arcade seemed like a good doctor, so he didn't actually get why Julie had him shoved in the back corner surrounded by books.

"It probably has more to do with my bedside manner. I'm not exactly a 'people person'." That was a bit of an understatement, if the way he treated Mickey was any clue. Mickey didn't mind it too much (he liked being manhandled sometimes) but he could see how it would upset some patients.

"So why'd you agree to come along with me?" Mickey fished a small pouch out of a side pocket of his pack. It contained a small amount of coyote tobacco, and he chewed on a few of the leaves and offered the pouch to Arcade, who declined with a shake of his head.

"Besides the reason I stated earlier, you being my patient? Professional curiosity. A glancing blow from being shot in the head wouldn't be newsworthy, so it had to be a bit more serious wound. And if your sister survived a more serious wound and still retained full function of her body and mind...well that'd be quite a miracle. One'd I'd like to see. Stimpacks and healing powder only fix so much." Arcade appeared to be contemplating something, probably how he'd go about treating such a wound. Mickey started to think about it as well. Honestly, there wasn't much anyone could do with a gunshot wound to the head. The victim was usually dead instantly. He didn't like thinking about how lucky Caroline had gotten. He pushed it out of his mind for now, and attempted to lighten the conversation.

"I'm hurt, Doc. Here I thought it was because of my amazing good looks." Mickey flashed a smile at the blonde man and was pleased to see pink blossoming on the doctor's cheeks, even in the dim lighting.

"Are you always this flirtatious?" Arcade asked, running his hand through his short hair. Mickey shrugged his shoulders and walked around a deep hole in the road at the same time Arcade stumbled over some debris, distracted.

"Only with the cuter Followers."

Arcade didn't reply, instead focusing on the road ahead. Mickey suppressed a smirk at the pink hue on the doctor's cheeks. They travelled in silence for a while, the sounds of Vegas fading behind, leaving the night sounds of the wasteland. Off in the distance, coyotes howled. The moon was bright and was lighting their way, but Mickey planned to hole up somewhere and rest in a few hours. Travelling at night wasn't the smartest plan, but Mickey had made it a point to not live his life the smart way, but the fun way.

"So, energy weapons? Didn't take you for the type to carry at all." Mickey said after a while. It wasn't that the silence was awkward, he was just a normally talkative person.

"I'd prefer to avoid combat if at all possible." Arcade said mildly, and out of the corner of his eye Mickey saw him tug his coat over the holster for the plasma pistol.

"You and me both. I've seen enough for a lifetime." Mickey said, not allowing his mind to wander back to those times. At least, not too far. He wasn't that person anymore. Well, he'd argue that he wasn't ever that person to begin with.

"Then why the bar fights over card games?" Arcade asked and Mickey laughed.

"I don't start them. Some people just don't take losing all that well." Mickey touched his lip, where the split was healing nicely thanks to the stimpack. He could probably pull the stitches out in the next day or two.

"Right…" Arcade muttered. The conversation trailed off again and Mickey concentrated on the road. They were making good time, and would probably get to the 188 trading post by daybreak. From there, they could take take the road down through Novac and circle around to get to Primm. It was a long walk, but it beat tangling with Deathclaws or going off the beaten path. Who knows what they'd run into.

He had to admit that it was good to have a companion, someone to talk to. He didn't know how Caroline did it. She took a trip to Shady Sands once as a courier, and did the whole trip by herself. He hated it, and worried about her for the whole week she was gone, but she came back happy and tanned, with her pack filled with gifts she had bought. She never did mind being by herself.

He hoped she was okay. Their mother would crawl out of her grave and beat him to death if she was anything but 100% okay.

Hours passed by with some conversation, and he definitely appreciated the doctor's presence. Sure, the man stopped every now and then to gather some native plant that he claimed could be used for medicinal purposes, but it never took more than a few minutes, and Mickey was learning things along the way. He wouldn't have pegged the doctor for a survivalist, but he did know quite a bit. Like how broc flower and xander root could be used to make healing powder. Mickey had used it before, but had never actually known how to make it.

In return, Mickey showed Arcade the ideal way to use the ripper attached to the doctor's pack when they stopped to rest (at the doctor's insistence that Mickey needed to take it easy with his bruised ribs). Despite not wanting to fight, sometimes a fight found you, and after a few hours, Mickey had grown to like the doctor a bit.

When the sky began to lighten, Mickey pulled the map from his pack to squint at it and check their location. They weren't far from the 188, so there they could stop to rest and get some food. He was looking forward to getting off his feet for a bit (his days marching through the day and night were long behind him) and maybe get a cup of coffee to keep himself awake long enough to get to Novac, where they could get a room at the motel there to get some rest. He wasn't actually sure how Arcade was keeping up with him.

The map was replaced in his pack and he looked up against the horizon. Three trails of smoke reached up towards the sky, trailing behind three rockets. He stopped in his tracks and Arcade stopped beside him, looking at the same spectacle.

They stood there long after the rockets disappeared, both men wondering what exactly was going on now. The wasteland was a strange place.


	4. The Catalyst

Oddly enough, it was Boone that broke the silence of the early morning. The two of them looked out the observation window at the three exhaust trails until they dissipated in the breeze. Six had looked on with a hopeful smile.

"D'you really think that they'll make it?" Boone asked, startling Six. The man had hardly said anything to her since they left Novac. They took care of the ghoul problem easy enough, although there were Nightkin to deal with, which was unexpected. Still, Six got to see Boone's proficiency with his rifle, and he wasn't bad with the machete he strapped to his waist either. One of the few things he said was a comment on her skill with her own guns. She had impressed the sniper and asked where she had learned how to shoot.

She wished she knew.

On their way back to Novac, Six wondered how Boone would explain his absence. They had pulled the Crawford woman's body away from the dinosaur, made it look like some raiders had taken her. Even busted up her place a bit. Still, Boone leaving so suddenly would likely raise some questions.

The sun was cresting over the horizon as they reached the little town, and Six saw the briefest moment of hesitation in her companion as they approached.

"How about you go get some rest. I'll finish up my business here and we can take off this afternoon?" Six suggested and the sniper nodded and walked up to his own room. Six stood in the courtyard after he disappeared inside, breathing in the morning air. She had a ton of junk in her pack and intended to see if Cliff Briscoe wanted to buy any of it, but she also had some useful stuff. Back in Primm she had come across a busted up eyebot. Johnson Nash had said that if she could fix it, it was hers. She didn't know the first thing about fixing robots (or at least she didn't think she did) but she was interested to see if she could.

Plus, having a robot seemed like it'd be neat.

First, she had to find the guy who shot her.

"Hey, kid. You're up early." Manny, the daytime sniper, came out of his room with his rifle slung over his back. Six shrugged.

"Didn't actually sleep last night. Took care of the ghoul problem for you. They won't be bothering you anymore." Six told him. He looked shocked, but she kind of expected it. She wouldn't tell him that she had help. Let him think that Boone was up there all night, protecting the town.

"Wow. Thanks. You don't understand how much that'll help us out." Manny smiled appreciatively, but suddenly, Six was impatient. She wanted the info and she wanted to leave the town.

"So. About the man in the checkered coat…"

"Oh yeah, Benny. He was with a couple of members of my old gang. They stopped through here on their way to Boulder City." Manny kept talking, but Six was hardly listening. So the guy's name was Benny. Good. She had a name. She asked about the gang members, mostly to see if they'd be any trouble, and it seemed like having Boone along would be a good thing. Great Khans were tough, if anything Manny had said was true. Thanking him for the information, she made her way up to her room and closed the door behind her.

Close. She was so close. She didn't know how long they'd be in Boulder City, but she did need to rest, and so did Boone. She sat down on her bed, still in the leather armor she had scrounged up from somewhere. It was far better than the jumpsuit she had. It wouldn't do much against a bullet, but most bladed weapons would have some trouble with it.

She stripped off the armor and crawled into the bed, hoping to grab a few hours of rest. Her mind was still crawling with thoughts of revenge, of what she'd do to this Benny when she caught up with him. First, she'd get answers as to where the Platinum Chip was and why it was worth shooting her in the head over.

She found that she couldn't rest. She'd pay for it later, when she dropped on the road of exhaustion, but for now, she settled for laying on the bed, her arms crossed over her chest, making her plans.

She laid there for at least two hours, watching the sunbeams crawl along the ceiling, thinking, before her mind matched the exhaustion her body felt and she drifted off to sleep.

She woke only a few moments later, it seemed, although the shadows in the room told her that it had been at least a few hours. There were voices outside her room, two men by the sounds of it. She lifted the Pip-Boy on her arm and checked the time. It was a little after one in the afternoon. She had gotten a few hours of rest, which was more than she had originally anticipated, and it'd get her through the rest of the day until they reached Boulder City.

"...ribs are fine, Doc. Fixed me up alright."

"I'd hope so. Are you going to open the door anytime soon?"

"Maybe I just like standing here looking at you. Oh, don't give me that face. I don't think that guy knew what key went where. I'll have to pick it."

"Oh, because that won't get us questionable looks."

"If you stop distracting me, I'll get it done."

"Oh, I'm distracting you? I only tripped over every rock and fell in…..fine."

"You're pretty antsy there, Arcade. Problems?"

"I just want to get inside."

"If you wanted me that bad, all you had to do-hey, it's open- Christ!"

A door opened and then closed, not gently, and she could hear the muffled voices on the other side of the wall, but couldn't catch their conversation anymore. It was amusing, but she had to get up and gather her things. Swinging her legs off the bed, she sat up and looked around for her armor. As she pulled it on, her stomach growled and reminded her that she missed breakfast. She'd figure something out with Boone before they took off, if he was hungry, and then they'd get on the road.

She looked at the torn vault suit before shoving it into her bag. She'd deal with it later. If anything, she could use the material as patches for other things. It wasn't as if she was a vault dweller herself. Or was she? She couldn't know.

Her bottles of water were filled at the sink in the bathroom. Water was probably slightly irradiated, as most water sources these days were, but it wouldn't be all that bad. It was better than nothing, after all. They were put in her pack as well, towards the back. Extra ammo was set in the outer pouches and her food was set on top.

She set the pack on the bed, holstered her pistol at her hip, and went to go find Boone.

Outside, Cliff Briscoe was talking with the Ranger, Andy. They looked up as she came out, and she didn't like the look on their faces. It was accusing, like she had done something wrong.

Well, she had helped Boone kill the Crawford woman, but to be honest, she had deserved it. Still, she wondered how she'd get out of it if they asked her. Maybe Boone would stick up for her.

She made her way over to the sniper's door as nonchalantly as she could. she could still feel the ranger's eyes on her as she moved. She knocked twice and waited briefly before the sniper opened the door. He didn't look like he had gotten much rest, the dark circles underneath his eyes had gotten darker and he wavered slightly as he stood in the doorway.

"Did you sleep any?" She asked, concerned for the man's well-being. He wasn't wearing his sunglasses, and she actually got to see his dark green eyes. They looked more than tired. He shook his head.

"I couldn't sleep. The room…."

"Reminds you of her. I get it." Six looked down and saw a smear of blood on the carpet. Was that hers?

"Why don't you go and catch a nap in my room? We'll leave at sundown. I'm going to go up the road to the scrap yard, see if there's anything useful for me up there." She offered. Honestly, she didn't want the man to push himself too hard. She cut off his refusal of the offer with a wave of her hand.

"Seriously, go rest. I'll be fine." Without waiting for him to speak, she pulled him out of the room and pressed her key into his palm. He shuffled over to her room, weariness written in every line of his body. She felt awful for him. Hopefully, some time away from the town would help him through his grieving process.

Six waited until he was in her room before she left Novac, wandering up the road towards the scrap yard marked on her Pip-Boy. It wasn't far, and outside, an old woman sat, surrounded by dogs. Old Lady Gibson, she was called, and she allowed Six to poke through her bits of scrap. There were a few more bits of scrap electronics that she bought. She didn't know how much she'd need to fix that eyebot. She unloaded some of the less useful stuff, and the woman bought most of it at decent prices.

After finishing her business, Six knelt down to pet the dogs, all of them pushing for their turn. She laughed and pushed herself back to her feet. Saying goodbye to Old Lady Gibson, she made her way back to Novac.

She still had several hours to kill, so she settled down outside what looked like an old gas station to eat some lunch. She had some old potato chips and a couple of apples that weren't too badly bruised. It was an alright lunch, she supposed, certainly better than nothing. She had a bit more to share with Boone, but she was really hoping she could hunt later for some gecko. Hell, she'd be happy with coyote right now, anything fresh was really better than Pre-War food.

She was relaxed, soaking up the warmth radiating from the stone underneath her and enjoying the sound of a radio drifting from somewhere, when the report of a rifle startled her. There were four more shots, and then the almost-silence again. She looked up at the mouth of the dinosaur, and could see Manny reloading his rifle and lifting it to his eye again.

He didn't fire again, so whatever he had been shooting at wasn't getting back up, and eventually, he lowered his rifle. It had to be a bit boring at times, scanning that section of the wasteland for threats. Travelling with her would likely be a bit more exciting for Boone. It'd give him something else to think about.

An hour or so passed, and Six decided to busy herself by cleaning her pistols. Not that she'd get all that much done with the wind blowing debris around, but she could strip them and maintain them. She had picked up another 10mm pistol a while back for spare parts, so she pulled it out and replaced the spring in her pistol.

With the pistol put back together, she lifted it and checked it to make sure it was still sighted properly. She didn't have much else to do, but maintaining her weapons was something she tried to do often. They saved her life, and she couldn't risk a jam in the middle of combat.

The sun slowly dropped towards the horizon, but they still had at least another hour of daylight left before she went to wake up Boone, so she played with her Pip-Boy, modifying the settings and checking her map. She was getting bored. Well, restless was probably the right term. She wanted to get moving, but at the same time, she didn't want to push her new friend too hard when he needed sleep. He needed more than few hours, sure, but she couldn't let Benny get any more ground on her.

She got to thinking about how she'd kill Benny. She liked to think that she hadn't ever killed anyone in cold blood, but she was entertaining the idea of standing over his corpse after she put two in his skull. Except she wouldn't let him live. She'd press her pistol to his forehead and pull the trigger until she ran out of bullets.

A sharp pain in her palm brought her out of her thoughts and she looked at her hand and realized she had been clenching her fist so tightly her nails had dug into her palm and began to bleed. She frowned at her hand. She was getting angry at thinking about Benny. Too angry. She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths, trying to find the relaxation she had a few minutes ago.

Booted feet crunching on the ground told her someone was coming towards her, but she didn't look up, not immediately. They were coming from the town, and most of the people there had been nice enough, she didn't think they'd start anything. She also had her pistol still in her lap, now loaded.

"You really should clean that up. It doesn't take much for even the smallest cuts to get infected out here." It was one of the voices from earlier, and she looked up to see a (very) tall blonde man standing in front of her, wearing a white doctor's coat and thick framed glasses perched on his nose.

"I've had worse. But thanks, I'll have a look at it later." She tugged the white apron that was part of the dress she had out of her pack, and tore a strip off and wound it around her palm. It'd keep the dirt out. It wasn't that serious, just a series of small, half-moon shaped cuts. They'd heal quickly enough.

"So, I take it you're not from around here then." The man nodded at her pack and Six shook her head. Six motioned for the doctor to take a seat beside her, and he did so, his long legs sticking out at awkward angles as he tried to mimic her cross-legged position. She smiled at him. He was kind of cute, with big blue eyes hidden behind those thick frames. If she had time, she'd probably try and get to know him a bit.

Benny first, and then she'd find a boyfriend.

"Neither am I. Just passing through, really. Stopped to rest, but I couldn't get that much sleep." He looked off towards the setting sun, and she looked over at him and saw dark circles under his eyes.

"Maybe you should try a bit more. You look exhausted." She suggested, but he shrugged.

"I'm just not used to walking so far. I'm a doctor in Freeside, I didn't expect to be trekking across the Mojave. I'll be fine." He assured her and she caught him studying her. It was strange feeling, but one she was used to. She did have a nice pink scar on the left side of her forehead where the skin had knit closed over the bullet wound. She resisted the urge to reach up and touch it.

"Long walks is what I do. Good thing you're a doctor, not a courier, right?" She said brightly and watched as something clicked in the doctor's mind. She wasn't all that great at reading people, but she saw his body language change.

"A courier...your name wouldn't happen to be Caroline, would it?" The man asked cautiously. Six had to resist the temptation to touch her pistol. Honestly, she didn't know what her name was. She was busy judging on whether or not she should trust the man enough to tell him that when he stood up, immediately setting her on edge.

"You're the courier on the radio that we heard about. Listen, my companion is going to want to meet you. He's the reason-" Six launched herself up, latching onto the man with one hand, her other hand pressing her pistol into the taller man's stomach. He stopped immediately, his eyes widening.

"And your companion would be?" Six demanded, and if anyone else had been looking, it might have been comical. Here she was, maybe five inches over five feet, holding onto a man who had at least a foot on her, and he was the frightened one.

Well, she was holding a gun. Most men would be thinking about imminent death with one of those pressed into their stomach.

"Hey...just, uh, take it easy, okay? His name is Mickey. He's been looking for his sister, who is a courier with the Mojave Express. He seems to think that she was the one shot in the head, so he took off to find her. I just assumed that with the scar on your head and you mentioning you're a courier, he'd want to see you." The man held his hands up to show he was unarmed, but Six didn't check him for weapons. Instead, she took a step back and lowered her gun.

As far as she knew, she was the only courier who was shot in the head. There could be others, of course, but she doubted it. Still, she had to be a bit smart about this. There was a chance that this Mickey knew who she was, but there was also a chance these two were here to finish up what Benny started. If they had heard a report on the radio, chances were that Benny had too.

"I don't remember who I am, so I couldn't tell you if I have a brother named Mickey. Or a brother at all, for that matter. So here's what we're going to do. You're going to wait here while I go get my friend. And then you're going to go get your friend. And then we'll come out here and have a nice chat, and see what's going on. But I'm going to say right now, my friend is a hell of a shot, so if this all turns out to be bullshit, I'm going to leave you both in the middle of the road bleeding to death while I continue on my merry way, okay?" Six said, and the blonde man nodded and didn't say another word. He backed up a bit more, leaning against one of the support beams for the overhang, tucking his hands in his pockets. She felt kind of bad about it, but she wasn't about to risk getting shot again.

Cautiously, with frequent glances over her shoulder, she made her way up to her motel room. She knocked on the door after turning the knob and remembering that she had given Boone her key, and a moment later, he answered the door. She ducked inside and closed the door quickly.

"Something up?" Boone asked and while he still looked tired, it was a lot better than he had looked before. He was perceptive, at least, picking up on her distress.

"Yeah. Uh, listen. I know you don't know a lot about me, and I don't have time to really explain. The short of it is that I was shot in the head, and now I don't remember who I am. There's a couple of guys who claim to know who I am, but I can't trust them. I need you down there with me in case they try something." Six explained in a rush, tucking her pistol into its holster. She opened a drawer in the bedside table and pulled out the combat knife she stashed in there and tucked it into her boot.

"I've got your back." Was all he said, and she smiled gratefully up at him and considered hugging him before her mind told her that probably wouldn't be received well. Instead, she opened the door and walked out, her sniper right behind her.

The blonde man was still waiting for her when she came out of the gated area and he looked a bit more cautious when she approached with her sniper. Boone was intimidating, even though the blonde had six inches on Boone. It was the hunting rifle strapped to his back, along with the machete. And the fact you couldn't see his eyes behind the tinted sunglasses he wore.

"Go find your friend. Pass on the warning too please." Six rested her hand on her pistol and settled in to wait. The blonde hurried off, tossing a few looks over his shoulder.


	5. You're Gonna Go Far, Kid

Sofas weren't meant for people as tall as Mickey was. Except Mickey was a gracious man, and Arcade was definitely taller than he was. Okay, so it wasn't that much taller. An inch or two. Arcade had napped on the bed, and Mickey crashed on the sofa. It was an alright arrangement, until Mickey woke to the sound of Arcade slipping out the door. Mickey did wonder where the man was getting off to, but maybe he had just become restless.

Or maybe it was Mickey's snoring.

Either way, Mickey didn't want to hear the good doctor complaining when they continued on later, despite their state of rest. Mickey settled back in, ignoring the thought of climbing into the bed that was recently vacated. He'd slept in worse conditions. It'd be fun though, to watch the doctor's cheeks turn pink again as Mickey needled him with some lewd comments about sharing a bed.

If he wasn't in such a rush to find Caroline, he'd spend a few nights here showing the doctor exactly what the bed could be used for. If Mickey was reading the situation right, the other man would be more than okay with it. It was adorable though, the way he blushed and stammered with every remark Mickey made. It seemed that he wasn't used to someone openly flirting with him, although Mickey remembered Arcade's remark just before the Med-X last night. After Caroline was safely tucked away back at home (and oh, how she'd hate that), he'd take Arcade out to the Wrangler and show him a good time.

For now, it was just for his personal amusement.

Sleep was just settling back over Mickey when the door opened again, startling him awake. He opened his eyes a bit to see Arcade standing by Mickey's feet, his blue eyes wide.

"I need you to come with me." Arcade said quickly. Mickey sat up, wary. The man was nervous about something.

"Talk to me." Mickey was moving, reaching for his shirt and boots.

"I may have found your sister." Arcade held up a hand to silence Mickey when he went to say something. "But there's a problem."

"You know, when I say talk to me, it means keep talking." Mickey laced up his boots, anxiety flowing through him. It was unlikely that Arcade would have found her, but he was still worried about it.

"There's a girl outside. She mentioned she was a courier, and then I noticed an obviously healing wound on her head. Looked like a bullet entry wound. Wasn't hard to put two and two together. Physically, I think she's fine. However, she did say she can't remember who she is." Arcade paused for breath. Mickey froze. Couldn't remember….

"Proof. I'd need proof. I have a picture. It was taken ages ago, back when….well, it doesn't matter. I don't have it with me, it's back at home." Mickey sighed. Well, this was going to be difficult.

"She's not going to like that. She….well, she's got a friend with her. NCR First Recon, and she seems pretty twitchy herself. Seems to think that we might be assassins." Arcade said, rubbing his stomach absently. Mickey chuckled despite himself.

"Relax. If she wanted you dead, your body would already be cooling in the street. Best shot I know, even better than Dad, and he was a Ranger. Come on, lets not keep them waiting. Imagine if this was all a misunderstanding, and it wasn't her?" Still, Mickey tucked his pistol into the back of his pants and pulled his shirt over it. He had his boot knife as well. If it was Caroline, he'd trust her without a thought, but as a rule, he didn't trust anyone who wore a uniform. Of any kind.

Arcade didn't count. A doctor's coat was hardly a uniform. It was just practical, right?

The blonde man led Mickey outside the gated area, and immediately Mickey recognized her. Brown hair tied up to keep it out of her face. Her relaxed but ready posture with a hand waiting casually on her gun resting in its holster. The lean shape of her from her work as a courier and her tanned skin, darkened by the sun. He was pleased to see her wearing leather armor. He had always pushed her to wear it, but she had usually refused instead wearing lighter clothing for her journeys.

Maybe he'd get lucky. He did quite often, which was how he made his living instead of having an actual job. Endless games of caravan and occasional trips into the casinos usually netted him enough caps to live a modest life. Their familial resemblance was there, if one knew how to look. They both had similarly tan skin, although Caroline's was definitely darker, coming from their father's side of the family. Had said his folks came from one of the countries south of the United States, back before the war. Couldn't remember which, something with a G though. Geography was never his strong suit.

They had similar lips as well, although they definitely suited her more than him. They were small and feminine, quick to smile in any situation. Mickey also knew other things about her, certain scars and how she got them, her dominant hand, where the pendant she wore came from (if she still wore it). He just might be able to convince her.

As they approached, her posture changed from relaxed to tense. If you didn't know otherwise, you wouldn't have seen it, but Mickey had been caring for her since birth, and he knew every little thing about her. He slowed down a bit, not wanting to rush and spook her. Still, his heart sunk. She really didn't remember him.

Mickey noted the sniper beside her but he didn't pay too much attention to the man. He had his arms crossed over his chest, and judging by the rest of his face, glowering at him behind his sunglasses. He held his hands up as he approached to show he wasn't holding any weapons.

"Do you really not remember anything?" Mickey asked, stopping a few feet in front of her. Caroline scowled at him.

"Hello to you too. No, I don't remember anything before some New Vegas jackass put two rounds into my skull. Best start talking, I'm feeling a bit trigger happy today." She retorted, curling her fingers around the grip of her pistol

"Well, I'd show you a picture, but I didn't bring it with me. It's back at my place in Freeside. Well, it used to be yours. You gave it to me since you were never home, off being a courier. But uh...well, you've got couple of scars across your stomach. From a deathclaw you encountered a few years back. You're left handed, but shoot with your right because that's how dad taught you. And you wear a necklace, well, I hope you still have it, with a pendant made from a .308 round and two .45-70 rounds." Mickey said, and he watched her left hand drift up to her neckline. He couldn't see the necklace if it was there, but judging by the movement, it was.

She appeared to be considering what he had to say, and threw a glance at the First Recon guy beside her."What's my name?"

"Caroline Christine Rosales. You were born on January 15th, 2261."

"God, that's a bit pretentious. Still, better than what I've been calling myself. Who are you?" Her grip loosened on her gun but her hand didn't move. She was starting to warm up to him. He offered a gentle smile.

"Michael Christopher Rosales. I'm your older brother, to the tune of sixteen years. From Arizona, originally, but now Freeside." Caroline tilted her head slightly, the indication of her considering something, when her sniper friend spoke up.

"Arizona? That's Legion territory." The sniper growled at him. Mickey did his best not to show annoyance.

"It is now. Back when we lived there as kids, it was just a tiny settlement on the river. Legion burnt the place to the ground, after they took whatever supplies we had and their slaves." Mickey replied carefully, knowing that one wrong word would put a bullet in his stomach.

"How'd we escape?" Caroline asked, her eyes watching him carefully. Before, he could have told her the sky was green and she'd believe it, but now she had no reason to trust him. Good thing she wasn't all that great at picking out lies. Still, he'd be safe and not lie about the whole thing. He didn't need her twitchy sniper friend to pick apart his entire history. He wouldn't like what he found.

"There was a cave not too far from the outskirts of town. Kids used to go there and play all the time, but I guess in all the confusion, it got looked over. We hid there until it was clear, and then we split up. I sent you north to the Mojave Outpost to go find Dad." Mickey told her, and it was better this way. Before, Caroline knew more than she ever needed to. Now, she could be blissfully ignorant.

There were some things she just didn't need to know.

"What was he there for?" Mickey should have known she'd have a lot of questions, and he kind of wished they were sitting down for this. It was rapidly getting dark.

"Dad was a Desert Ranger. He was up there for the signing of the Ranger Unification Treaty. I wanted you to get safe, but I went back to look for survivors."

"My God, Mickey. That was….she was ten years old, and you sent her by herself?" Arcade spoke up this time. Mickey sighed and rolled his eyes.

"She was a ten year old who could outshoot most of the Rangers who lived in the settlement. She knew a ton of survival skills and was quick on her feet. I would have went with her if I could, but I stayed behind to help." Mickey explained himself but Arcade still looked at him with some disapproval.

"Are they still alive? Mom and Dad?"

"Ah..no. Mom died about two years before the Legion hit. She had some heart condition, but we didn't have any doctors around who could treat it. Dad died in '78, probably due to his old age and complications from injuries. He was one of the Rangers at the Battle of the Hoover Dam." The sun had set completely, and all the color was rapidly fading from the sky. It was getting a little hard to see.

"Let's say I believe you. I won't, not until I see that picture, but let's just pretend for a minute. What happens now?" Well, that was a good question, wasn't it? She was clearly on a mission, one he didn't know about yet, but he didn't want to stop her, not really. She was very independent, and seeing her travel with someone was a little strange to him.

"Ideally, you come back with me and let me help you try and remember your life. But I'd imagine you have something to do - you always do- and I don't want to push you." Mickey tucked his hands into his pockets.

"I'd like to see you as well, actually." Arcade spoke up and Mickey turned to look at the man who was adjusting his glasses. "It's not often I see someone who survived a wound such as yours, and even less often that they retain the ability to walk upright, let alone speak and shoot."

"And who are you?" Caroline asked, turning her attention to him.

"Arcade Gannon. I'm a doctor with the Followers of the Apocalypse, over in Freeside, as I said earlier." Arcade crossed his arms across his chest. Caroline shrugged.

"I don't know how much I can do for you. You'd be better off talking to Doc Mitchell in Goodsprings, he'd know about it. He fixed me up after that securitron -" Caroline pointed to one waiting by the gate. Mickey didn't even realize it was there at first, so used to the ones by the gate into the Strip. "- dug me out of the grave Benny and his asshole friends put me in."

Mickey's stomach lurched. Grave? God, this was worse than any sucker punch he had felt. His reaction must have been visible because he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked over to see Arcade looking at him with concern.

"I...had no idea. And you know where this Benny is?" Mickey asked. He felt sick, but there was a familiar feeling of rage starting to crawl up his spine.

"Yeah, Boulder City. I'm heading that way tonight. Hopefully I can get there before he retreats back to whatever hole he crawled out of." Caroline tapped her gun rhythmically, a sign she was impatient.

"I don't suppose you'd let me come with you, would you?" Mickey would be more than happy to put a bullet in the man's skull for her.

"I still don't know if I can trust you. I hope you understand. I'll meet up with you in Freeside, take a look at that picture, and then maybe we'll see." She was understandably hesitant. In her situation, Mickey would be too.

"I guess that's all I can ask. Hey, NCR, it's not like I can ask a favor of you, but watch her back, okay?" Mickey looked to the man in the beret, and while he didn't seem too pleased to be referred to as 'NCR', it wasn't like Mickey knew his name. Still, the man nodded. Mickey wasn't the most perceptive man in the world, but he had a feeling about that man. He wouldn't be disappointed.

"I don't need a babysitter. Still, it's nice to have someone watching my back. I've gotta get going though, he's already got a head start. Caroline looked at her pack sitting by her feet, then sighed and lifted it onto her back.

"Got a long hike ahead of us, Boone, hope you're ready. Go get your stuff, I'm fairly confident they're not going to kill me anymore." Caroline adjusted the weight on her shoulders and locked her gun in its holster. The sniper stomped back over to the motel, casting a look back at her as he did so.

"Don't worry, he's a good shot. Won't let anything near me. And if he does, " Caroline reached into her pocket and fished out a silver coin, probably a Legion Denarius. Mickey wondered where she picked that up, as caps were the dominant currency around here. She tossed it into the air, and in a swift move, she drew her weapon and shot the coin as it descended. The coin hit the ground not far away, and she walked over to pick it up and tossed it to Mickey.

There was a sharp pain in his chest as he watched her perform the trick, and he caught the coin, knowing that even in the darkness, there was a hole in the center of the coin. He tucked it into his pocket and smiled at her proud smirk.

"Dad taught you that trick, believe it or not." Mickey remarked, his mind flashing back to the ten year old kid he remembered, and the dozens of pre-war coins that littered their backyard. He still had some, tucked carefully away with a few other keepsakes he managed to hang onto over the years.

"He must have been a hell of a shot then." Caroline secured her pistol again and looked over to her right, where Boone was hurrying towards them, obviously due to the gunshot. "Relax, I'm fine. Just demonstrating my skill to protect myself. Shall we?" Caroline gestured towards the road, and the man nodded. Mickey wondered if he ever spoke.

"Be careful, Caroline." Mickey said, but she was already moving, waving her response as she continued on her journey.

"You're okay with her just going off to kill a man?" Arcade asked. Mickey shrugged. Sure, he was fine with it.

"Dad taught us a lot of lessons. One of them, one he made sure stick, was 'Someone ever tries to kill you, you try and kill 'em right back.' But she won't try. She'll succeed. And I'm perfectly okay with that." He stood there, watching her until she disappeared into the darkness, and then decided to return to his room. He'd rest a bit more and then he'd decide what to do.

"That's basically murder, Mickey." Arcade continued. The doctor was cute, and certainly made travel less boring, but he had morals. Annoying ones.

"I'm no more okay with murder than you are, Doc, but in this case, he deserves it. I'd do it myself if she'd let me, but honestly, I think she needs this." Mickey opened the door to the room and stepped inside, flipping the light on as he did so. He needed a drink, and began looking around the room for his bag. He had a flask in there somewhere, filled with some scotch. He felt Arcade's disapproving eyes on him as the other man entered the room and shut the door.

"Listen, I'd kill everyone in the Mojave just so she wouldn't have to, without hesitation. But that's not exactly a feasible plan, now is it?" Finding the flask, Mickey unscrewed the cap and took a long pull from it. The alcohol burned pleasantly on its way down, and it made Mickey feel a little better about letting his sister just walk away.

"I don't suppose you could take on that many Legionaries at once." Arcade sat down on the bed and watched Mickey as he settled himself down on the sofa. Mickey shrugged.

"Eh. Seven or eight of them, maybe. Depending on if they were recruits or not." Mickey took another pull from his flask. That was if he got lucky. And he usually did.

"You sound like you have before." Mickey laughed at that. He had managed it, only once, and lady luck was certainly smiling on him that day. He wouldn't want to try again.

"Is that where the scars on your back came from? Although, they don't look like weapon scars, more like -" Arcade asked. Mickey cut him off with an angry glare.

"We're not talking about those." Mickey regretted listening to the doctor when he told him to take off his shirt. Julie had seen them, many times. But she never asked. They were old, healed wounds. She didn't need to worry about them. It seemed Arcade was just too curious.

"Fine. Everyone has secrets. I can respect that." Arcade laid back on the bed and stared at the ceiling, his fingers interlaced on his chest. Mickey snorted.

"I highly doubt that any secret you have is as bad as any of mine. What, did you break someone's crayon as a child?" Mickey relaxed on the sofa and mimicked Arcade, looking up at the ceiling.

"Are you sure you understand the definition of a secret, Mickey?"

"God, you're condescending. Let me finish this, I might find it sexy." Mickey took another drink, then screwed the cap back on and tossed it to Arcade. It bounced off the man's stomach and landed on the bed.

"Don't lie, Mickey. It's not a good thing to do. You find it sexy now." Arcade picked up the flask and lifted himself off the bed to take a sip. He made a face, then replaced the cap and tossed it back to MIckey. "You like the abuse."

"Only sometimes." Mickey set the flask on the floor next to the bed and put his hands behind his head. The alcohol was doing the trick to relax him, and he was doing his best to not bolt out of the door and after Caroline. She was an adult now, and while he wasn't completely satisfied with how their conversation worked out, at least he knew she was alive.

Only now he was waiting for the spirit of their mother to rise from the grave and come haunt him. That's what the scotch was for.

"You shouldn't drink so much if we're doing more hiking tomorrow. You don't need to be dehydrated." Arcade said after a moment. Mickey rolled his eyes. Maybe she was possessing Arcade. It certainly sounded like something she'd say.

"Yes, mom."

"No, I'm serious. There isn't much I can do about dehydration out here. I don't have any way to get fluid in your system besides putting it in your mouth." Arcade braced himself up on his elbows and Mickey raised an eyebrow at the man.

"Um. Phrasing?" Mickey laughed heartily when the other man paused to consider his words and then flushed a bright red.

"Relax, Arcade. I'm just screwing with you. But I'll be fine. The Rosales family is made from heartier stuff than that. A little alcohol won't bother me in the slightest." Mickey sat up to take his boots off, tugging at the laces he always pulled too tightly.

"It doesn't look like you're screwing anything." Arcade returned, leaning over to do the same. Mickey smirked.

"You sound disappointed, Doc. Careful now, I might start to think you actually want me." Mickey returned, amused that his wit was making the doctor blush instead of get angry, like it usually did.

"Wouldn't want to do that, now would I?" Arcade hurried with his boots, setting them neatly by the corner of the bed, and then retreated to the mattress. Mickey chuckled again, kicking his boots over towards his pack.

"I can never tell with you. Get some sleep, Doctor. Long walk in the morning." Mickey reached up and flicked off the light, plunging the room into almost complete darkness.

"Are we going back to Freeside?"

"Nope. Sticking to my original plan. Sort of. We're going to Goodsprings to go see this doctor. I want to know details. You can translate for me." Mickey wrestled the thin blanket out from underneath him and draped it over his body, leaving his feet free. He hated his feet stuck underneath a blanket.

"Sounds good. I actually wanted to speak to him myself. Learning how he did it might allow me to save a few more lives." Mickey sighed.

"You're such a bleeding heart, Doc. Get some sleep. I know you're exhausted."

"Yes, mom."

Smartass.


	6. Welcome to the Family

Six was quiet as she and Boone walked through the darkened wasteland. She supposed she should stop calling herself that, now that she knew her name. She wasn't sure if Caroline felt right, but it was definitely better than Six.

Her mind was considering everything she heard today, and while she wanted to focus on her mission, she found that she couldn't stop thinking about it. She had a brother. One who seemed nice enough, but she wasn't sure she wanted to trust him just yet.

Boone was silent beside her, focusing on the road before them. She wasn't entirely sure she could trust him either, but so far he hadn't shot her when her back was turned. Maybe, just maybe, after Benny was dead, she could go up to Freeside and ask around. If she lived there before, then someone was bound to see and recognize her.

If not, she was back to square one. But she felt pretty resourceful. She could figure something out.

It was a clear, cool night for the Mojave, with a light breeze blowing from the west. The sky was cloudless, and stars twinkled brightly above her. All in all, it was a nice night for travelling.

The one 188 trading post was mostly quiet, things having settled down for the night, so they didn't linger, stopping only to drink water and have a quick snack and then they moved on.

Halfway to Boulder City, Boone spoke up. He actually startled her when he asked his question, breaking the comfortable silence that had been between them all night.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Well, you just did so...yeah, go ahead. I'm an open book." She replied. She'd be as open as she could be, considering she didn't remember before. It was weird to think about, actually, how that whole chunk of her life was missing.

"Do you really not remember before?" He asked quietly, and Six glanced over at him. He wasn't looking at her, instead looking off as far as they could see in the darkness. She wasn't sure if he wasn't looking at her on purpose.

"Mostly….no. There are bits and pieces floating around in here." She tapped her head on the side she was shot, just beyond the scar. "It usually comes out in my dreams though. Flashes of things that happened before, but never enough to really understand what was going on."

One dream she had a few nights ago was beginning to make sense to her, if what her 'brother' had said was true. It was a nightmare, really. It wasn't anything clear, not that she could make out, but after thinking about it, she had known what triggered it.

Walking up on Nipton. The smell of the bodies burning on the fire, the crimson uniforms of the Legion, the men on the crosses. She was amazed they had let her go after that, but the man there, Vulpes Inculta, had wanted her to deliver a message. And deliver it she did.

After waking up, she was constantly hearing stories about Legion atrocities. So when she came upon Nipton, she knew immediately what happened, even before seeing the banners hung up and the bodies crucified. She looked for survivors, at first only finding a man with broken legs inside a store.

She didn't meet Vulpes until she went inside the town hall, where she came face to face with the man and his fellow Legionaries. Frozen to the spot, there was nothing she could do as he approached her. Drawing her weapon would have certainly meant death at this close range, so she stood in his presence, listened to his message, and when he bid her farewell, she nearly tripped over herself in her haste to leave.

She ran nearly the whole way to the Mojave Outpost. She stumbled into the Administrative building and could barely speak. Ranger Jackson was there, and it took fifteen minutes and a lot of water to get her to talk.

Her dream that night, safe within the Outpost's gates, had echoed much of what happened at Nipton, and at first, she thought it was just her mind replaying it, but now, picking up on the differences, she thought it could have been the memory of ten years ago, when their settlement was sacked. The screams she heard echoing in her head were certainly different, as there weren't any in Nipton, just the moans of men dying on their crosses and the fires burning. She also heard hurried footsteps and gunfire.

"Huh." Was all Boone had said in reply, and she looked over at him again, but his stony face didn't give her any look into what he was thinking.

"I don't recommend it. It's hard, not remembering remembering my family. If I had friends. I can't really remember any good memories. Or the bad ones, come to think of it, so I guess it's not all bad." She was trying to be an optimist and hoping they'd come back eventually, but it was really anyone's guess.

"Guess not." He replied in a tone of voice that made her wonder. It wasn't any of her business to pry. She barely knew the man. But goddamn if she wasn't curious.

"I'd bet there's a few things you want to forget. I'm sure everyone has one or two." She remarked as casually as she could. Getting the man to open up would probably go a long way, but if she was reading him right, he wouldn't. Not for a long while.

"Yeah." Well, he was definitely succinct.

"Don't suppose you'd share with the class, would you?" She asked, not really expecting any answer. His silence confirmed her thoughts.

And now it was awkward. At least to her. They continued on for a while, and Six spoke up again.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to bring anything up." She apologized, her fingers tracing the lines of her pistol. She felt anxious now.

"Don't worry about it." He replied gruffly. Six sighed.

"Listen. I, ah, well, it's not like I really know anything about this, but if you ever want to talk about it. Or you know, anything. I'm around." She told him, kicking a rock down the road. It clattered against the debris, and besides the light wind whistling across the Wasteland, it was the only sound.

Three things happened seemingly at once. A gunshot broke the near silence, followed immediately by the sound of a bullet ricocheting off the rock at their feet, and Boone grabbing her and throwing her to the side. It took Six a fraction of a second to recover from the schock and then she was reaching for her pistol and looking for the source of the sound.

In the darkness beyond them, back-lit by the moon, three figures moved towards them, peppering them with more gunfire. Boone had dropped to one knee, his rifle already in hand. Raiders, most likely, but she'd shoot first and ask questions later. She scrambled to her feet and took aim.

Boone's rifle cracked and one figure dropped. He was already pulling the bolt back and aiming up again. She fired two shots from her pistol and the closest one to them dropped, crying out in pain. She scowled and squeezed the trigger again, fairly sure that he was dead now.

Boone's rifle cracked again and the last one dropped to the ground, undoubtedly dead. "We're clear." He said after scanning the horizon, and Six lowered her pistol. Once again, she was amazed by Boone's skill with his rifle. Back at the REPCONN test site, she was impressed, but here in the open, he really shined.

"Thanks for that." She breathed, tucking her weapon away. She reached over to her left arm and flipped her Pip-Boy light on and wandered over to one of the bodies. It was just a raider.

"It's what I'm here for." He said, wandering up to another one. He flipped the body over on its back and examined it.

None of them had anything useful to scavenged besides some ammo, which Six pocketed. Their guns were in horrible condition, not even worth hanging onto for salvage.

"Hopefully Boulder City isn't this exciting." She remarked as they continued on.

* * *

Turns out, it was more exciting. She couldn't decide which part she liked better, the fact that she managed to resolve the situation between the NCR and the Great Khans, or that she ran into one of the Khans that Benny had with him on the night he shot her.

Truth be told, she almost shot him, but she didn't think she could solve the other situation after that.

She returned to Boone after securing the release of the NCR hostages, turning Benny's lighter over in her hand. She ran her thumb over the engravings on it, and then tucked it into her pocket. She wasn't gonna shove it up Benny's ass (gross) but maybe she'd set him on fire with it. She did have a few sticks of dynamite in her pack…

Boone waited impatiently by the gate, his arms crossed over his chest. She had him wait outside. She remembered someone somewhere saying something about First Recon and Bitter Springs, and felt like it'd go smoother if there wasn't a glowering man with a red beret shadowing her.

"Well, looks like I was too slow. Benny made his way back to the Strip. He's some big shot at the Tops." She growled and stomped away, not even giving Lieutenant Monroe a second of her time. Anger was bubbling away in her stomach, and she kicked at some debris. "Motherfucker!" She yelled.

She'd never touch him in the casino, surrounded by his own. Getting into the Tops probably would be easy enough, but there's nothing stopping him from bolting when he saw her. If he even recognized her.

"Well, now what the fuck do I do?" She said, mostly to herself, but she looked over at Boone to see if he had any suggestions. He was predictably silent, but it did seem like he was thinking about it.

"I'm not ready to head that way. Not yet. I need a plan. Lets….let's go back to the 188, rest, get some food, and see what we can come up with." She sighed and ran her hands over her head. She had a headache brewing, and wanted to sit down somewhere and rest for a while. Maybe get a nap. The sun overhead was annoying, although it wasn't quite as hot today.

"Lead the way." Boone said, nodding forward. His silence was particularly annoying right now, but she held her tongue and moved on, heading back towards the trading post. She'd really like his opinion, but it seemed like he was too busy thinking about it.

At the trading post, Six dropped her pack onto a table and sat down next to it. Boone sat across from her, setting his pack down next to her but keeping his rifle slung over his back .Six dropped her head into her hands and groaned.

"No offense, but you look like you've traveled a long way down some bad roads." Next to Six, a woman wearing rough brown robes sat down. She had a hood of the same material pulled over her head, and Six looked over at her. Well, she wasn't shy, that's for sure. "Where ya from?"

"The grave." Six muttered, looking back down at the table. She wasn't feeling all that chatty at the moment, but she didn't exactly want to be rude, either. She'd leave the total silence to Boone.

"Huh. Well. In that case, I take that back. You look pretty good, given the circumstances." The woman said, and Six chuckled at that. "Well, I'm Veronica. I live in a hole in the ground."

"A hole in the ground? Really? Sounds comfortable. My name's Six - I mean, Caroline." Six responded.

"Well, a bunker, if you want to get technical. I think it sounds better my way. But I'm not around much. I'm usually out getting food and supplies for my family. Whatever they need." Veronica said. Six frowned. Did she mean like one of those Vaults that were scattered across the country? She didn't look like a vault dweller.

Six then wondered how she knew what a vault dweller looked like. The only example she really had was Doc Mitchell in Goodsprings.

"So you just leave your family in the bunker when you go on these supply runs?"

"Yeah, I'm not worried. They can handle themselves. And actually these days, I think they'd rather have me out here anyways. But that's a whole other story. Anyways, can I ask you something?"Veronica continued. Six wondered if she was about to ask for help with something. It seemed like everyone in the wastes needed something done.

"Sure, go ahead." She replied, folding her arms onto the table and dropping her head down on them. It might have been a bit rude to do so, but damn it she was tired and more than a little pissed off.

"I had a run in with this group calling themselves the Brotherhood of Steel. Pretty strange bunch. Do you know anything about them?" The woman asked in a pretty neutral tone of voice. Six wondered if it was a loaded question and picked her head up to stare at the other woman. Boone spoke up before she could.

"They're enemies of the NCR. If you know where they are, you should turn them in." He said, and Six looked over at him.

"Who's not an enemy of the NCR these days? I don't know much about them, but they're usually pretty harmless, unless you use some kind of advanced technology around them. Laser weapons and the like." Six said, mostly to Boone. He just shrugged.

"If you say so."

"Well, that shouldn't be a problem for me. I can't afford anything like that. So, If I can ask….where are you headed?" Veronica shrugged too. Six still wasn't sure if she could trust the woman.

"I just go wherever. Drift place to place." She wasn't about to tell Veronica of her plans. Could be a plant by Benny. Or anyone, really. It wasn't like she hadn't pissed her fair share of people off in the days since she woke up.

"Just wherever the wind takes you, huh? I like that. Keeps things interesting. I'll be honest, you look like the first couple of people I've seen out here who look like they can really handle themselves. There are places I've never been to that'd be too dangerous for just me. What do you think? Could I join you guys, help you out?" She asked a little eagerly.

Six considered it for a moment. It was a strange conversation, but she was at least chattier than Boone was. She did like the company too. It felt better knowing she had someone watching her back. Having two sets of eyes on her wouldn't be a bad idea, and the idea of having some feminine company in general appealed to her. she didn't trust Veronica, not yet, but it wouldn't be a bad plan.

"Where are you hoping to go?"

"Oh, no where in particular really. Just hoping to see more of the world. I want to see how different groups have adapted to survive in the Mojave. See if there's something I can learn from them." She tapped her fingers on the table, and Six watched them carefully.

"You don't look like much. What do you bring to the table?"

"Huh. Good. That's the look I was going for. Trust me, though. You'll be glad you brought me along. But if I turn out to be a burden, we can part ways at any time. No hard feelings." It was then Six noticed the power fist the woman had on her right hand. That was a little more advanced than a set of spiked brass knuckles. Curious.

"If Boone here is okay with it, feel free to tag along." Six looked over at her other companion. He shrugged and got up from the table.

"Up to you. Your adventure. I'll be back." He said and walked away. At first, Six thought he was leaving her, but she noticed his pack still sitting on the bench. So he was going off on his own for a little bit. Hell, maybe he just needed a piss. No big deal.

"Okay then. Welcome aboard." Six smiled at the woman and extended her hand. Left hand, as she didn't think it'd be fun to shake hands with a power fist. Veronica shook it and grinned back.

"Now you're talking. One thing you should know first. It's good your friend got up, because I asked you about the Brotherhood because I'm one of them." Veronica's grin turned sheepish. "I know, I know. But I had to know how you'd react when I told you. We've made a lot of enemies. Like the NCR."

And there was the catch. Six didn't mind, not so much. From what she knew of the Brotherhood (wherever that knowledge came from) they weren't so bad. Started fights they couldn't win, sure, but everyone did that now and again. Boone would be tricky. She liked the sniper.

"As long as you're honest with me from now on. I do feel better knowing you've had some training, though."

"Not gonna lie, I'm great at punching people. It's a gift. Just, uh, don't ever ask me if your outfit makes you look fat. So, about your NCR friend…" Veronica said, and Six tapped on the table, thinking.

"We'll….just not tell him. Not immediately. Let him see that you're not so bad. Just, uh, don't actually turn out to be Legion or something. I don't think there's a power in the world would stop him from putting a bullet in you then." Six didn't like that plan, but it was the best she had. Someone else needed to make the plans. Hers turned out badly.

"No problem there. So, uh...what's the plan?"

"Honestly? I couldn't say. I was chasing after this guy, Benny, but he's on the Strip, and I'm not ready to head there yet. Maybe I can do a bit more out here first. Explore. Try and remember…" Six interlaced her fingers and brought her hands up to her lips, tapping them against her mouth idly.

Nipton had triggered memories of the past for her, perhaps other places could too. She wouldn't know where to start, but she had to start somewhere. The guy who claimed to be her brother was likely heading to Goodsprings to question the doctor who patched her up, so that gave her some time to explore. She'd head up to Freeside after a week was through.

"Remember what?" Veronica asked. Footsteps behind them signalled Boone's return, and he had a bottle of water and some skewered meat on a plate. Six's stomach gave a rumble at the sight, reminding her to eat. Travelling was hard work.

"About a week and a half ago, I woke up in Goodsprings. Doctor there told me I had been shot in the head and left to die in a shallow grave. I was a courier, supposed to deliver a package, but it was taken from me. By Benny. He also took my memories. I don't remember who I was before." Six admitted. Veronica's eyes were wide.

"Wow. So, is that why you're name is Six Caroline then?"

"What? No. I had been calling myself Six, since I didn't know my real name. I just know that I was Courier Number Six of the Mojave Express. And then I met someone who claimed to be my brother and said my name was Caroline. I just haven't gotten used to it yet." Six still wasn't sure if Caroline was a good fit. Christine wasn't either.

"So now you travel the wasteland helping people. Admirable thing. Is that what we're gonna do next?" Veronica asked.

Helping people didn't sound too bad. She could earn some caps, buy some better equipment, and then figure out a plan to take on Benny.

"As soon as I can find someone to help, yeah. I'll probably go on up to Freeside in a week or so, meet up with that 'brother' of mine and see what he's really about, but helping people sounds good. The waste is shitty. Time to be a paragon of hope and goodness." Six grinned. Maybe not a paragon, but at least less of a jackass than most people.

"If I could make a suggestion?" Boone spoke up. Six tilted her head towards him.

"Of course. I'm your friend - well, hopefully somewhere in that ballpark- not your commanding officer. If you've got something to say, say it." Six told him and he took a deep breath before responding.

"I say we go to Camp Forlorn Hope. They could always use a little help." Boone said and took a sip of his water.

"Veronica, your opinion?" Six asked the other woman. Going to Forlorn Hope wasn't a bad plan, but Six sensed there was another reason for it. It was awfully close to Nelson and the Legion. Boone was itching to shoot some of the bastards. Honestly, after Nipton and the attack, she was too. But she wasn't about to drag the other woman into the fray without at least asking.

"Hey, I'm up for anything. Bonus points if I get to punch things." She waved her arm around.

"Alright then. Forlorn Hope it is, after I get some food."

"Ooh, Michelle makes a killer gecko steak. Get that." Veronica said and Six pushed herself up from the table to go find Michelle. Gecko steak sounded fabulous.

As she waited for her meal, Six thought about things. How her life was strange. Was it always this weird before? She wasn't ready to march into a casino but she was perfectly okay taking down a town full of Legionaries. She had a pistol strapped to her thigh and a hunting rifle in her pack Boone had said he'd clean for her and if they had time, show her the proper way to shoot it. If the rest of her weapons skills were anything to go by, she'd pick it up in no time.

That man, Mickey. Her brother. He had said she had been taught how to shoot by a Ranger. They were the best of the best from what she had heard. It made sense then. Things became muscle memory after a while. Instinct. She didn't think that the bullets in her skull had scrambled that part. Just the part that told her who she was.

Back at the table, true to his word, Boone had a hunting rifle broken down in front of him. His own was leaned against the table next to him. He was focused on his work, examining each piece carefully. A weapon repair kit sat in front of him too, and slowly he was fixing the rifle.

Veronica was thumbing through a copy of Pugilism Illustrated. Six didn't disturb either of them, instead sitting down with her food and eating quickly. She hadn't realized how hungry she was until Boone came back with food of his own. She really needed to eat more. She noticed that she was thinner than most other women, and even the leather armor she had liberated from a raider was a bit loose on her.

Sliding the plate away once it was empty, she realized that she could probably eat more if she wasn't so uncomfortably full. It looked like it was something she'd have to work on.

"...never take care of yourself. Just like your mother…."

Those words drifted through her mind, echoing in a voice she didn't recognize. She wondered who it was.

"Here, I've done what I could. It's not perfect, but it's usable." Boone slid the bolt back into the rifle and looked at it one last time before handing it over to Six. She came out of her thoughts and took it carefully, examining it herself. She slid the bolt back and peered inside. The interior was clean and she looked at the rest of it. The stock had seen better days, but she'd be willing to bet that she could find a shop with some parts for her. Lifting it up to her shoulder, she pointed it off in the distance, well away from where anyone was standing, and looked down the sights.

"Thanks. Now all I have to do is find a scope and a red beret and we could be twins." She joked with him, setting the rifle back down. Boone turned to his pack and shifted through its contents before pulling out a small roll of red cloth. He passed it over to her and she unrolled it and grinned.

"Don't know if I'm accurate enough to live up to these words, but I'll do my best." She pulled the beret onto her head. "How do I look?"

"Patch goes over the other eye." Boone remarked. Six adjusted the beret and he nodded his satisfaction.

"Nice! Does the NCR have any unarmed units? I want to see that beret. Bet it looks like a big bruise. Our patch would be a glowing fist, with the words 'Saving People, Punching Things'" Veronica said. Six laughed, and she swore she saw the corners of Boone's lips twitch up like he wanted to smile.

"C'mon, you two. Lets hit the road."


	7. Hot Blooded

I apologize for taking so long with this chapter. Between being sick and an ice storm in my area of the country that left me without power for a week, it was hard to work on this.

* * *

Mickey knew something was off even before they got close to Nipton. It was too quiet. There should have been some kind of noise coming from the town, but instead there was silence. When he voiced his concerns to Arcade, the man shrugged.

"Radio reports said the town had gone dark, but no one apparently cared enough to check. We can go if you'd like." Arcade pulled his plasma defender (Mickey had been corrected several times, but Mickey still liked calling it a pistol, even though Arcade insisted that there was a difference) and checked his energy cell. Mickey stared at the town for a moment.

Somebody had to look.

"Yeah, lets go." Mickey drew his own weapon and the pair continued towards Nipton. The knot in his gut tightened when they got closer and saw the banners. Arcade muttered a curse beside him. Mickey thumbed the safety off on his pistol and continued forward.

Despite the sun shining, there was a dark mood to Nipton. And the smell. Mickey pressed his face into his sleeve, grimacing. Arcade did the same, looking around with a look of horror on his face. The bodies littered around the place were decomposing, and some had fallen off the crosses they were hung up on.

Mickey had seen this before. Many times.

"I can't believe the Legion made it this far." Arcade said, digging into his pack. He pulled out what appeared to be a spare t-shirt and fashioned it into a scarf to cover his face. Mickey thought it was a good idea and did the same, and now both his hands were free.

It didn't do much, but it was certainly better than breathing in all the floating bits of decomposing bodies that caused the smell.

"I can. I doubt there are any survivors, but if you want to look-" Mickey looked towards the town hall, past the row of crucified citizens.

"I do. Nobody deserves this." Arcade murmured, moving forward. Mickey followed, keeping an eye out. He wasn't sure if this was just a raid or a trap.

"Don't move any bodies. If they're not visibly breathing, move on." Mickey warned, adjusting his grip on his gun. This whole situation made him uneasy. It brought back painful memories he had shoved to the back of his mind, never intending to touch again.

"Noted." Arcade moved up towards the town hall, skipping right past the bodies that had fallen from the crosses. It was obvious that they were beyond saving. Mickey held the doctor back when he went to open the door to the building, instead carefully opening the door himself. He checked for traps of any kind, then allowed the doctor to enter.

Inside the building was no less gruesome. There were more bodies, signs of a fight. Arcade approached each one, looking carefully but not touching any of them. They cleared the entire building, except for the basement door, which was locked. Mickey was unable to pick the lock and the key was nowhere to be found.

Outside, the two men paused and looked at each other. Mickey was tense, more on edge than when he had heard about Caroline. Arcade had a slight tremble, really only visible if you looked at his gun.

"We have to tell someone about this." Arcade said. Mickey nodded. It was too late for anyone to know anything, but the NCR had to be told about the Legion's push into Nevada.

"The NCR has a bit of a presence at the Mojave Outpost. We'll let the Rangers over there know." Mickey said, securing his weapon again. Arcade did the same. If they were travelling faster than they were before, neither man mentioned it.

They were both silent the whole way to the Mojave Outpost.

* * *

"Of course they won't fucking do anything. Gotta follow their orders. What bullshit." Mickey grumbled, sitting at the bar. A glass and a bottle of whiskey sat in front of him, although the glass hadn't been touched. Instead he was drinking straight from the bottle. He figured he might as well, since he paid for the whole thing. Arcade was beside him, sipping carefully on a glass of whiskey mixed with Nuka Cola, although he had been adding more Cola to it as he went along. Mickey had poured it for him, and probably made it a little strong for the good doctor.

"Isn't that the damn truth." The redhead a few seats down agreed, lifting her own bottle at Mickey. Mickey looked over at her and flashed a charming smile. She wasn't bad looking, not really his type, but being a shameless flirt couldn't be avoided. He picked up his bottle and moved to sit by the redhead, noting what looked like jealousy on Arcade's face. The man hid behind his drink, taking a larger than usual sip.

"And what bullshit has you indulging?" Mickey waved his own bottle of whiskey towards hers. The woman picked up her own bottle and took a swig.

"I don't need bullshit to drink." The redhead said after swallowing her mouthful of whiskey.

"But it's making you drink all the same." Mickey remarked. The woman pushed up the brim of her hat and stared at Mickey for a long moment, and then glanced quickly over his shoulder at Arcade.

"Observant. What brings you and a Followers doc all the way out here?"

"Reporting what happened to Nipton. Fucking Legion." Mickey scowled and took another pull from his bottle.

"Fucking Legion." The woman repeated and copied his action. "Part of the reason I'm holed up here. 'Not safe for caravans', the NCR says. My caravan is fucking gone, and I'm still tied here by paperwork."

Mickey could sympathize. While it wasn't exactly the same situation, he had been somewhere that was impossible to leave. Well, not impossible, because he did leave, but it wasn't easy.

"Fuck 'em. Who's gonna come looking if you just left?" Mickey asked, mostly serious. The redhead gave a short laugh.

"Probably a couple of rangers. Now that's trouble I don't need." She drank more whiskey, and Mickey was mildly impressed with the amount of whiskey she was putting away. He had a decent tolerance, but he was willing to bet that she could drink him under the table and into a grave and still be good for more.

"Any day now though, I'll get out of here. Sent a courier up to see if I could get out of my contract. Kid seemed a little anxious to get the hell out of here. Not that I blame her."

Courier? Was it Caroline? Was she around here a few days ago?

"Was she about this tall, dark hair, tanned skin?" Mickey asked, holding his hand up to approximate Caroline's height.

"Yeah, sounds about right. She bought a bottle of whiskey, drank about half of it, we chatted for a bit, and then she left. Not sure where she was off to. She was only here to tell the rangers about what happened to Nipton."

Mickey paused with his drink halfway to his mouth. She had seen Nipton? His stomach clenched uncomfortably.

"Why, do you know the kid?" The woman asked, frowning at his expression. He had a hell of a poker face with everything but Caroline.

"Yeah. My sister." He murmured, finishing his movement and drinking the whiskey. His mother really was going to crawl out of her grave. His father too. And he deserved it. Mickey really needed to convince her to find something safer to do.

He laughed to himself. Safer? In the Mojave? Not likely. Suddenly he didn't feel like sitting at the bar anymore. He wanted to go sit in the dark and drink himself, if God was merciful, to death, so his parents could go ahead and chew him out for not looking out for Caroline.

"Arcade and I are leaving in the morning, should you change your mind." Mickey got up from the bar, dragging the bottle with him, and left the building. He wanted to be alone now.

Outside, in the cool night air, Mickey tucked himself away behind the building, where there weren't any eyes. Normally, the whiskey would help him feel a little better about himself. As would the fresh air and the solitude. But right now, he was feeling like a shitty sibling.

Some of his father's last words, before he slipped into a coma and never woke up, was to look out for Caroline. Keep her safe, keep her happy. And he was failing miserably. Dropping his head into his hands, Mickey leaned against the wall and groaned.

It was either his own crap mood or the amount of whiskey he had imbibed, but he didn't notice Arcade sitting down next to him until the man spoke up.

"She'll be alright, Mickey." The words were unsteady, suggesting that Arcade had more to drink than he was comfortable with, and a small part of Mickey wanted to poke fun at the lightweight. His black mood wouldn't let him though, and it annoyed him.

"Like we're alright? Wasteland changes everyone." Mickey said bitterly. There wasn't a such thing as innocence anymore. Hadn't been in a long time. In a world where children learned to kill or be killed, there couldn't be.

"It's what you do with the change that is important. If you're worried she's gonna become a psychopath bent on murdering everyone who wrongs her, make sure she's taught otherwise. She's still young. " Arcade reached over and took the whiskey from Mickey and drank from the bottle. Mickey watched this with a raised eyebrow.

"Maybe you should slow down a bit."

"Maybe...maybe you should stop being so bossy." Arcade slurred and Mickey grinned despite his mood. A drunk doctor was a cute doctor, with his rosy flush and bright eyes. He couldn't help but feel desire curl in his gut, just a touch. His mind began spinning towards other ways to make the doctor flush, and it was a decidedly better direction than he had been heading earlier.

"I'm starting to think you like it, Doctor." Mickey reached for the bottle but Arcade jerked it away with a smirk. The doctor waved it teasingly before Mickey, pulling it out of reach when Mickey grabbed for it again.

"Maybe a little bit." Arcade drank more. Mickey smiled ruefully.

"If only you weren't well on your way to wasted, Arcade." Mickey sighed and snatched the bottle from Arcade. He replaced the cap and tucked it on his other side, away from Arcade. As much as he wanted a tumble with the man, it wouldn't be because of whiskey.

"I like the way you say my name. Arcade. Like you're...tasting it. Rolling it around-"

"Okay, Doctor. Lets find you a bed." Mickey stood and pulled the blond man to his feet. Together they made it out to where the caravaners usually stayed, where they had stashed their packs for the night. Two bedrolls were in the corner of the fenced area, and Mickey tried his best to gently place the doctor down, but with both their states of inebriation (although Mickey didn't have more than a buzz) it wasn't easy.

"Just a few days and you already got me into bed." Arcade laughed, tugging his blanket over his hips. Mickey rolled his eyes with a smile.

"Don't I wish." Mickey was sometimes annoyed with his morals. Certainly it would open up more adventures in his life, but taking advantage of a clearly drunk (but very attractive) Arcade Gannon would make him feel terrible.

Plus, Mickey wanted the man to remember the event, should it ever occur. He had no reason to believe that there was anything between him and the doctor besides playful flirting. Mickey had a bad habit of just assuming things. He was determined to change this, however, and instead of jumping into Arcade's lap for a tumble, he'd let the other man make the first move.

And they were outside, and while Mickey couldn't care less who saw him go to town, he'd bet Arcade was a whole lot more private. And Mickey doubted Ranger Ghost wanted to witness any part of that. Mickey was nothing if not courteous.

If anything, the doctor's adorable drunkenness brought Mickey out of his black mood and with a final swig of the whiskey bottle to empty it, Mickey settled into his own bedroll to relax. The night was cool and he tugged a blanket over himself to ward off the chill. He glanced over at Arcade, who was out like a light and snoring softly beside him. A gentle smile curved over Mickey's lips and he tugged Arcade's blanket higher and slipped off the man's glasses and tucked them carefully into a pocket of Arcade's pack, as he had seen the doctor do previously, so he could find them in the morning.

Lifting his head to look at the stars, Mickey observed the heavens and let the soft sounds of nightfall lull him to sleep.

* * *

_The fires were frightening and disorienting. There was screaming and gunfire. Mickey picked himself up off the ground and looked around. The night was lit by these fires, and above the crackling of the flames he could hear screams._

_He recognized this place. Home. Havasu. It was a resort and campground before the war, but now it was a series of ramshackle huts and worn down buildings organized into a community. Now it was on fire._

_Mickey saw others running, occasionally men in crimson tunics tackling men and women to the ground, ripping children from their mothers. Mickey scrambled away, moving towards his home. Dad was gone, but Caroline needed his help. He had to get her out of here. He wasn't sure how it was, but any group of raiders were dangerous._

_There were plenty of corpses, from both sides. This community was a popular one for desert rangers, and while most of the ones who lived here were away, the ones who remained were putting up a hell of a fight. They had also taught much of the community valuable combat skills. These raiders were well organized though, and obviously had inside information. Why else would they hit now?_

_Their home, part of a pre-War motel, seemed to be mostly untouched by fire, but there were more of the men in the crimson tunics outside. Mickey pulled his gun from his waistband and quickly took care of the group in front of his door. They hadn't spotted him and he had been shooting since he could hold a gun. They didn't stand a chance._

_The door hadn't been breached yet, but it was locked, so he fished his key out and with steady hands he opened the door. The front room was dark, lit only by the light of the fires outside pouring through the door. Closing and bolting the door behind him, he shoved a table in front of it. It'd buy him some time, he'd get Caroline out through the back._

_"Caroline? Baby girl, we have to go." He called, praying she was here. Quickly, he went to his room and pulled his rucksack from behind the door. His father had drilled into them to be prepared, be ready to move at any time. His bag had basic survival gear, enough to get them through several days in the desert without stopping to forage or resupply. It also had spare ammo._

_The door next to his creaked open and he paused to look out of his room, taking his finger off the trigger guard and placing it onto the trigger itself._

_"Mickey?" A small voice called and he relaxed slightly. It was Caroline. She sounded terrified, and he couldn't blame her. Fear coursed through him as well, but he had to focus on her._

_"Get your bag, baby girl. We have to go." He said, going to her._

_"What's happening? What about Daniel?" She asked. She did as he asked, taking her smaller pack and settling it on her shoulders. She was prepared, just as he was, and her pack also contained a gun. He wasn't going to risk drawing any more attention though, so as soon as they were outside, they were going to run for it. Daniel was a grown man, and while Caroline adored him (admittedly, so did he) he couldn't' worry about the man now._

_Out front, the bodies had obviously been discovered and the door began to shudder under the force of blows as the raiders tried to gain entry. He moved then, grabbing Caroline by the arm and pulling her towards their father's room. The room had large window that opened, and it also led to the lake, where they could use the cover of rocks by the shore to escape._

_He opened the window and lifted Caroline out, and she dropped lightly to the ground below. He followed, pulling the window closed behind them to buy them a few precious seconds._

_It didn't matter, as the raiders rounded the building and found them. There was no time to react, as Caroline was snatched from him. She fought and screamed, as did he, until a gun was pressed to his temple._

* * *

Mickey woke with a start. As he became aware of his surroundings, the intense fear he felt from the dream faded away, as did the memory of the dream itself. It was a common one, and after seeing Nipton, he wasn't surprised that he had the dream again. He just took comfort in the fact that it didn't happen that way.

His head ached and his mouth was dry, the penalty for drinking so much, although a dose of healing powder and some cactus water would be the perfect remedy. And maybe some breakfast.

He looked over to find Arcade gone and felt a small amount of disappointment. However, the man's pack was still there, which meant he was in the compound somewhere. Mickey pulled himself up and went to find the doctor.

He found him at the bar again, head in his hands and a bowl of Sugar Bombs in front of him. He looked absolutely miserable. Mickey remembered his first hangover quite vividly so he kept his voice down when he ordered some cactus water and his own breakfast, a wasteland omelet. He had healing powder in his pocket and he passed a pouch over to the doctor wordlessly.

"I hate whiskey." Arcade remarked after swallowing the powder with a mouthful of water. Mickey chuckled and took his own dose.

"You're not doing it right then." The redhead at the corner of the bar remarked and Mickey wondered if she was glued to her seat. She seemed to have not moved since last night. Mickey had to agree with her, though. Some of the best nights of his life involved whiskey.

"I'm never doing it again." Arcade groaned, taking a few bites of the sugary cereal before him. He looked mildly nauseous as he ate. Mickey smiled as his own breakfast was delivered and he ate quickly.

"They all say that. They're always back for more." Mickey remarked between bites. Arcade lifted his head to look at Mickey. Mickey winked. Arcade's cheeks filled with color and he dropped his head.

"Of course. Only two attractive men who come through here, and they're together." The redhead said with a sigh. Mickey's grinned widely as Arcade choked next to him.

"I...we're not...I'm…" The doctor tried and Mickey slapped him on the back a few times before turning to look at the woman.

"What he's trying to say is that we're not together." Mickey supplied helpfully. The woman looked at them skeptically and shrugged.

"Not judging. Can't say the same for anyone else around here." She turned back to her own food, a thick brahmin steak by the looks of it.

Mickey shrugged himself and turned back to his meal, mostly finished by now. Next to him, Arcade had managed to clear his airway and had instead busied himself with drinking an entire bottle of water. Mickey finished up his cactus water, dropped enough caps on the bar counter to cover both his and Arcade's meals, and stood, pulling the doctor to his feet as well.

"Got a lot of ground to cover today. Sure you're not gonna come with us?" Mickey turned to the redhead woman. She nodded her head.

"Rules are rules. As long as they keep the whiskey coming, I'll be alright til that courier comes back with my paperwork."

Mickey shrugged. He wasn't sure what Caroline was up to, whether she had found Benny or not, but she always did her job, so she'd be back here sooner or later.

"Come find me in Freeside when you're free. Ask around for Mickey Rosales, someone usually knows how to find me. I'll buy you a drink." Mickey extended his hand towards the woman and she took it and shook briefly.

"Rose of Sharon Cassidy. Just call me Cass. I'll see you around." She smiled up at them as they left.

The early morning was cool for an October in the Mojave, but it'd warm right up again. It rarely, if ever got very cold here, but on occasion he broke out the thick wool jacket that belonged to his father. He had a few scarves in a trunk at his place too, scarves his father had recovered when he returned to their home. Mickey had kept them. His mother had knitted them, and while there was little call for them in Arizona, sometimes the ranger had taken trips north or into the mountains where he needed them.

They were both quiet, heading along the road towards Goodsprings. Arcade was likely still nursing his hangover and Mickey was still thinking about his dream, Nipton and Caroline. Worry had settled deep into his gut and it was hard to not turn around and go find Caroline again. He wouldn't. Before, she was always very independent and needed her space, and he didn't think that it would change now.

"Mickey?" Arcade said tentatively. Mickey turned his head to look at the other man, who appeared to be choosing his words very carefully.

"I want to apologize for my...uh, behavior last night. I don't usually drink." Arcade said, focusing on the road ahead instead of Mickey. The man was embarrassed.

"No harm done, Arcade. You're adorable when you're drunk, by the way." Mickey said lightly. Arcade laughed with a self-deprecating tone.

"Adorable isn't what I'd call it. I usually have more class. I don't throw myself at men." Arcade replied. Mickey shrugged.

"Hey, do it when you're sober and you might get somewhere. While drunken sex has its merits, I'd prefer that the first time with you would be memorable." Mickey remarked casually, carefully watching Arcade for his reaction. The man's pace faltered for a moment, surprised, but he didn't seem upset at the idea.

"You say that like you think it's going to happen." Arcade raised an eyebrow at Mickey but there was a smile playing on his lips. Mickey stopped in his tracks and Arcade jerked to a halt too, surprised.

"You're a fucking tease, you know that, Gannon?" Mickey said, his voice nearly a growl. He took a step towards Arcade and the man froze, caught in Mickey's predatory gaze. Still, somewhere the blond doctor found his courage.

"Takes one to know one, doesn't it?" This time, Arcade took a step towards Mickey. He was well within arm's reach now, and Mickey itched to reach out and grab the doctor, pull him forward and kiss him. With an incredible amount of self-control, Mickey managed to stay still, although if Arcade had looked down at Mickey's hands, he would see them clenched into tight fists. Mickey's warm honey brown eyes stared into the cool blue ones that Arcade possessed for a long moment.

"Oh, what the hell." Arcade murmured and leaned forward, his eyes fluttering closed. That was all Mickey needed, and he closed the gap between them, wanting to crush Arcade against him. Instead he was gentle, pressing his lips against Arcade's. Arcade made a pleased sound and pressed forward, lips curving up into a smile.

Mickey shared the sentiment, quite pleased with how this turned out. Still, he couldn't stand here all day kissing Arcade, as much as he'd like to. It was hard to pull away, especially when Arcade's hands drifted up to Mickey's shoulders, the taller man's tongue darting out against Mickey's lips.

As far as kisses went, this was a great one. With a sigh, Mickey pulled away. Arcade opened his eyes with confusion, and Mickey couldn't resist leaning in for a last quick brush against Arcade's mouth.

"As much as I'd like to stand here all day, showing you the finer things in life, we do have a mission. When we get back home, we'll have plenty of time. Come on, lets get this over with." Mickey smiled and began walking. Arcade stood where he was for a moment, and then shook his head slightly and scrambled to keep up.

Mickey and Arcade walked the Long 15, Mickey whistling cheerfully. Goodsprings would give him some answers about Caroline, and the kiss made up for his dark mood and nightmare last night. All in all, life in the wasteland was good right now. It would change, he knew that, but for now, he could enjoy the little things.


	8. Ultraviolence

Six counted this as a very productive week. She, with the help of Boone and Veronica, had alleviated some of the issues Camp Forlorn hope had, including re-taking Nelson, and gained a new companion when they decided to go investigate Black Mountain and the crazy radio broadcasts.

Now they were resting at the 188 trading post again. Veronica had taken a bit of a beating fighting the Super Mutants at Black Mountain. They all could use a break, as dirty and road weary as they were, and Caroline was considering going to Freeside. She had to go that way anyhow, with Benny being holed up on the Strip. She needed the Platinum Chip to finish her job. She also figured she'd check in with the guy who claimed to be her brother.

"Hey, Vee, you feel like you can make it to Freeside in the morning?" She turned to the other woman, who was reclining by their fire.

"Made it here, didn't I?" The scribe said wearily. She was heavily bruised, and had only made it this far through the copious use of Med-X. Still, heading to Freeside would probably be better in the long run. Wasn't there a Followers camp there?

"What about you, Raul? Feel up to it?" Six turned to the ghoul, who was also sitting by the fire. He also had a blanket thrown over his shoulders. It was a cold night, as far as things went in the Mojave, and probably a sign she needed to start looking for places inside to take shelter at night. She was bundled up with the vault jumpsuit she was given underneath her leather armor. It was a tight, slightly uncomfortable fit, but it was worth it as she was a bit warmer than the others appeared to be. Boone had even donned a long-sleeved shirt to ward off the chill.

"Your call, boss." The ghoul replied. Six frowned, not liking being called boss, but she figured the ghoul didn't mean anything by it. Hopefully though he didn't feel like he owed her anything. Setting him free had just been a happy coincidence when she investigated Black Mountain.

"If we can, I want to stop by McCarran. Last I heard, my old unit was there. I'd like to go talk to them." Boone said when she turned her attention to him. She nodded.

"Sure, we can do that. Seriously, you guys don't have to ask my permission. I'm not your mother or anything. Anything you guys want to do or think I should do, speak up. We're a team. The three of us shoot bad guys while Vee runs up and punches things to death." Six said, earning a chuckle from the ghoul.

"You know it." Veronica said sleepily. Six looked over at the woman and found her well on her way to falling asleep.

"Get some rest. We'll head on in the morning, and hopefully it won't take us too long to get to Freeside." She settled into her bundle of blankets and curled towards the fire. The others settled in as well, and for a long time things were silent.

Six couldn't sleep though. She just lay there, watching their fire burn down unable to drift off like the others had. She was too nervous, thinking about what was coming. Benny was on the Strip, so she'd have to find him and figure out how to take him out without drawing too much attention to herself. And then there was the matter of her brother. Finding out who she used to be was an exciting prospect, but it also made her uneasy. What if there were things in her past she wanted to forget?

Not everyone got that luxury. The first person who came to mind was Boone. It was obvious to her that he was carrying a great burden, and she wondered if she could get him to open up about it. To be honest, it was upsetting her to see his eyes darkened when they looked like they should be sparkling. He was a very closed individual, and while there was nothing inherently wrong with that, he didn't seem like he was like that to begin with.

Six looked over at the sniper who was laying across from her. His glasses and beret had been removed, and he looked strangely vulnerable without them. They were a part of the armor he used, although against what, she couldn't say. She knew he was still mourning his wife, but there was something else there.

Sighing, she rolled onto her back and looked up at the stars overhead. It was a clear night, and they were all shining brightly overhead. The moon had waned, and while she didn't know any of the constellations, she could appreciate how pretty it was.

Movement drew her attention, and she turned her head to look. Boone was standing, moving as quiet as he could. It certainly wouldn't have woken the others, but as she was still alert, she heard the quiet slide of blankets and his booted feet on the ground. She wondered where he was off to, and waited a few minutes to see if he was going to come back.

After five minutes, he hadn't returned, so Six carefully extracted herself from her own blanket and followed. In the dark, he was hard to spot, but she found him sitting on the edge of the overpass, looking out on the wasteland.

She purposely kicked a rock into a few others to alert him to her presence, noting as he flinched and whipped his head around. His shoulders tightened noticeably.

"Didn't want to spook you." She said, taking a seat next to him. His feet were still firmly planted on the overpass, but Six swung her legs over and let them dangle. The two of them sat in silence, watching the horizon. Six looked up occasionally, admiring the stars. A bright light streaked across the sky, an asteroid burning up in the atmosphere.

"Want to talk about it?" Six said finally, looking over at the sniper.

"About what?" He asked, his voice a low growl. Others would have been unnerved by it, but she was determined to figure things out.

"What's keeping you awake? Or whatever. Talking is good, or so I hear." She said simply, shrugging. She watched the brief flash of emotion in his eyes before they were shuttered again, and he turned away.

"I...I met Carla on the Strip a few years back, while I was on leave. She came up to me, said I looked lost. I was. First time on the Strip has a way of turning you around. She took me to the Lounge at the Tops for drinks. She talked a lot. Fine by me, I never know what to say. And listening to her...could make you forget." He began softly. Six didn't want to interrupt, so she kept quiet until his story was over, but she was already thinking. He had something he wanted to forget, something that happened before Carla. She doubted she'd get to the bottom of it tonight, but it was something for her to work on.

"She stuck out just about everywhere we went. Like she was from a different time. A better time. I've never met anyone like her." Boone paused, ran a hand over his head and frowned. His head was bare, his beret left back with his pack.

"I fell in love with her the moment I saw her. It didn't take her too much longer. We got married a month later, when I had two day leave. I was stationed out at Camp Golf then, but she stayed in Vegas. It was safer there. Manny was the witness, but he didn't seem happy to be there. 'It's too soon' He kept saying. I didn't listen. Couple of months later, my time was up. Manny convinced me to take my papers and walk. We went to Novac. Small community, out in the middle of nowhere. It'd be safe enough, I thought." Boone sighed, a long exhale.

"Should have known. Came back from my watch that night and found her gone. There were bloodstains on the carpet. She was pregnant then, and at first, I thought she was having complications and had gone to find the doctor. But the doctor hadn't seen her. Nobody had, it seemed. I followed some tracks out of town, eventually caught up to them." He took a deep, shuddering breath now. Six didn't mean to, but she took her hand and placed it over his. He flinched and looked down at it. He didn't pull away, so neither did she.

"They were selling her. The Legion. There were so many of them, bidding for things no man has a right to. I saw it all through the scope of my rifle. It was just me….against all of them. So I took the shot."

Six's blood ran cold as she grasped his meaning. She couldn't imagine the strength of will that took. She took a deep breath and squeezed his hand gently.

"I'd rather die than be a Legion slave."

"Yeah….what they do to women...it's worse than death. There was no choice in what I did. It was more like...being forced to watch something you can't stop. All this was ever going to play out one way. It still is. I don't have any say. All I can do is wait for it to be done with me." Boone pulled his hand away, patted his pockets and withdrew a pack of cigarettes. Six had seen him smoke once before, lighting one up as they walked to the REPCONN Test Site the first time they met. She figured it was a high stress thing. She dug her lighter out of her pocket and handed to him. He took a long drag and exhaled a lungful of smoke.

"You make it sound like her death was inevitable." Six remarked, watching him burn through that cigarette and light another. She wondered if she smoke before, and decided she didn't intend to continue if she did. It was a terrible habit. Life in the wastes was already short, she didn't want to make it any shorter.

"It was gonna be something. If I'd never met Carla, it would've been something else. I should've never gotten close to her.I've got bad things coming to me. You'd better keep your distance, too." He took this cigarette slower. Six watched him carefully. She didn't plan on keeping her distance, but he didn't need to know that. She was a big girl.

"Why do you think bad things are coming?"

"Because fair is fair." He sighed again, exhaling a plume of smoke as he did so. Six opened her mouth to say she didn't understand but he interrupted her. "I know you don't understand. It's better that you don't."

She closed her mouth and looked back out over the wasteland with a frown. It seemed like he was about done talking, which was okay. He had said more today than she ever thought he would.

"Thanks for telling me. I know it's hard, but I'm here. For whatever. You know, if you need a drinking buddy. Or if you want to go shoot some Legionaries. Or talking." Six turned her head to look at the sniper again and was surprised when he looked confused.

"What? You look like you haven't had a friend before. I mean, for all I know, I haven't had one before, but I have an idea of what one is supposed to do." For a second, she thought about hugging him but decided against it. It wasn't time for that yet.

"I haven't. Not like you." He murmured quietly, almost like he was talking to himself. She smiled at him and swung her legs back onto the overpass.

"Well, I'm going to go try and get some sleep. I'd suggest you do the same." Six stood up and brushed herself off. She hesitated, wondering if she should say anything else.

"It sounds like it takes somebody really special to get your attention. I would have liked to have met Carla. Goodnight, Boone." Six said softly, resting her hand on his shoulder briefly before leaving the man, returning to her blankets. She added another piece of wood to the fire and curled up underneath the thin wool.

As she drifted off, she heard Boone return to his place beside the fire and she felt safer with his presence.

* * *

"What a shithole." Six muttered to herself once the gates of Freeside closed behind her. She had dropped Veronica off at the Follower's camp with the promise to return to fetch her in a few hours. She had business with the Crimson Caravan, settling the contract for Rose of Sharon Cassidy, a woman she had met at the Mojave outpost during her one and only trip to the place. Boone had left to go meet up with First Recon at Camp McCarran. She'd go find him later. For now, she was just accompanied by Raul, which was a good thing. A few yard from the Follower's doorstep they were assaulted by a couple of thugs, and Raul was quick with his pistol and they were dealt with easily enough.

This wasn't an area she wanted to wander around alone. And she lived here before?

"No kidding. Lets make sure to keep our eyes open while we're here, eh?" Raul replied lightly. Six smiled.

"Yeah, no problem. C'mon, lets get this done so we can go find Boone. I feel like people are a whole lot less likely to fuck with us if he's following us around." She remarked, hurrying towards the Crimson Caravan place.

Inside, she ran into Ringo, the man she had helped in Goodsprings. She was happy to see that he made it here and refused the rest of the caps he had offered her. They chatted for a moment, just small talk really, and then she asked where Alice McLafferty was. He informed her, and with a friendly hug, they parted ways.

Dealing with McLafferty was easy enough. She seemed willing to buy out Cassidy Caravans, which was good, since it took quite a bit to convince Cass to sell it in the first place. It was burnt to ash, and while money wasn't the only thing in the world that was important, it'd get the woman out of the Mojave outpost, where otherwise she'd drink herself to death. She liked the redhead, she didn't want that. Six would deliver the paperwork as soon as she could.

Alice also wanted Six to run over and deliver some paperwork to Camp McCarran. Since she was heading in that direction anyways, she took the job. She didn't take Ringo's caps from him since he likely needed them more than she did, but she'd take any job that would get her caps since she still did need them."Do you feel up to hoofing it with me?" Six asked Raul as they left the Crimson Caravan compound. She didn't want to drag him along if he didn't want to go, although she wasn't sure where he'd go to wait. With Veronica, maybe?

"I might be an old man, but I think I can make it. Bad neighborhood too. It's probably a good idea if I stuck around. Just my opinion though. If you want me elsewhere, I'll leave." Raul replied, following along and keeping up with her easily enough.

"Hey, it's entirely up to you. I'd feel better with you watching my back, but if you really want to go rest, I'm not gonna complain if you go chill with Veronica for a while." Six replied, pushing open the gate to the compound to let Raul out. She slipped out behind him and shoved the door closed.

The trip to McCarran was uneventful although a couple of times she swore she could feel eyes on her, and was thankful for Raul's company. Sure, not many people respected ghouls or even liked them, but they were less likely to attack someone who had backup.

McCarran was busy, with NCR soldiers hurrying about on duty, but it was easy to find Boone. Well, easy enough to find someone wearing a similar beret and follow him until she found where the snipers were hanging out.

They were inside a tent, Boone with them, and a couple of them looked at her when she entered. It was then she realized that she was still wearing the First Recon beret Boone had given her.

"Friend of yours, Craig?" One of the men sitting around a table spoke, looking at her carefully. She reached up and tugged the beret off, a little embarrassed.

"She's with me, yeah. Six, First Recon Alpha team." Boone said, nodding towards the others. She looked around at the other people in the tent. All of but one had a hunting rifle slung on their back, and all but one wore the familiar red beret. The odd one out was an older looking man, with dark skin and a white mustache. He wore a ranger hat and had what appeared to be a modified cowboy repeater.

"Six? S-she's even got a name l-like ours." One of the smaller snipers, came forward from between the bunks. He was almost impossible to recognize with his face covered and a pair of glasses.

"Uh, no. My name's Caroline. I think. You know what, call me Six. That's fine." She stammered, squeezing the beret tightly in her hands. She wasn't sure why she was so embarrassed. It felt strange.

"I'll call you whatever you want, sweetheart." A female voice spoke up from the sofa and Six turned to look at the woman giving her a lewd look.

"Cool it, corporal." Came a stern voice from the other man at the table. "I apologize, ma'am. Lieutenant Gorobets. Nice to meet you."

"So...I hope I'm not interrupting anything. I just came by to see what Boone was up to." She crept inside the tent a bit more, sliding over so Raul could be a part of the conversation, although he didn't talk all that much to begin with.

"We were just telling Boone about our issues with the Friends. Hoping he'd re-enlist and help us out."

"And he was telling us how that wasn't gonna happen." The man in the ranger hat sighed and leaned back in this chair.

"Well, good for me, I guess. I've gotten used to him looking over my shoulder." Six grinned at the man. He shrugged.

"You don't need me." Boone said. Six felt a flutter in her stomach at the thought that he might go, and she wasn't sure why. He could do what he liked.

"Sure I do. You've saved my life. More than once. You're handy to have around." Six replied. Honestly, she'd let him go if he wanted, but she really did like to have him around.

"But, if you need help with the Fiends, I can probably take some time to help you out." She offered, and the lieutenant leaned forward to look at her.

"You think you can handle it? They're dangerous." Gorobets stared long and hard at her. Six stared right back. She could handle it. She could handle the Legion, she could handle a handful of crazy Fiends drugged up on Psycho or Jet.

"She took down Dead Sea." Boone said, breaking the lieutenant's attention from her. He turned to stare at Boone incredulously.

"I heard we took Nelson, but you mean to tell me that she walked in there and took the bastard out?" Six tried not to take offence to his tone of voice. She was aware that she looked young. Hell, she was only twenty years old. But still, it stung a little.

"Four hundred yards out. Without a scope." Boone continued. Six felt a blush come across her cheeks. It was nice to know that a sniper thought she was a good shot.

"T-that's impressive. I heard you s-saved the hostages too."

"I had help." Six said insistently. She wasn't that good. She couldn't have done it without Boone and Veronica's help. Raul came after, but he was quite handy with the .357 he carried.

"I suppose you could handle the Fiends then, if you have the same help. You should head over to Major Dhatri, he's been asking for help with them." The lieutenant said and Six nodded. She wasn't too anxious to kill more people, but she heard stories about the Fiends.

"Sure, I can do that. Boone, you in?" Six looked over to her sniper, who simply stared back like it was a dumb question. In hindsight, it probably was.

"Not sure I'm up for chasing fiends, boss." Raul said and she turned her attention to him, concerned.

"It's your call. You dealt with those thugs in Freeside easy enough. You might be an old man, but you're still fast as hell." She told him. Raul shrugged.

"If you say so. If it's all the same, I'll go wait with Veronica, keep her company. Hunting fiends is a young man's job." The ghoul replied. Six sighed.

"Be careful on your way back then. I'll come find you after we're done. Shouldn't take too long." She patted the ghoul on the shoulder as he left.

"Looks like its just you and me then." She smiled over at him and tugged on the beret again, making sure that it was settled correctly on her head.

"Be careful with that. If you're as good as Craig says you are, I don't mind you wearing it, but it does make you more of a target." Gorobets advised. Six stopped to think about it for a moment. She hadn't thought of it like that.

"Not anymore than killing Dead Sea did." The man with the Ranger hat said. He was probably right too.

"Fair enough. Good luck with the Fiends." The lieutenant said as the pair walked out of the tent.

* * *

Turns out, she needed the luck. Violet was easy enough, with her and Boone picking off her dogs from a distance until the woman appeared. Two .308 rounds to the chest, one from both their rifles took her down easy enough. When it came down to it though, she couldn't bring herself to cut off the woman's head. Boone took care of it for her, wrapping it in some material he found in the woman's camp and stowing it in his own pack.

They returned to McCarran and settled the bounty on her head with Major Dhatri, and headed out to go take care of Cook-Cook. From what she had been told, he was the one who captured and raped Corporal Betsy, one of the First Recon snipers she had met earlier. She doubted she'd feel so bad about killing this one.

His camp wasn't hard to find, but it was seemingly empty. The only living things around were his pet brahmin. Boone looked around the area with his scope, Six through a pair of binoculars, and it was completely devoid of human life.

"Are they smart enough to set up a trap?" She asked quietly from their perch in a destroyed building. Boone frowned in thought, then gathered up his rifle and stood.

"Sit tight, I'm going to go over to that building there and see if I can see anything." He slung the rifle over his shoulder and climbed down from their spot. She watched him go until he disappeared from her sight, and she turned back to the camp to watch.

Hours passed, and the sun set, and she was starting to get worried about Boone. He was a grown man, sure, and could take care of himself, but what if someone jumped him? Snuck up on him and stabbed him to death? He was pretty aware of his surroundings in general, but it wasn't impossible.

Worry nagged at her for a while before she decided to go look for him. Not the best idea she'd ever had, but he was her friend, damn it, and she wasn't just gonna sit here and wait for someone to come find her while he bled out.

Moving carefully towards the building he indicated, she paused at every sound and looked around. Still nobody around. Or at least there was, until she rounded a corner and ran right into one of the Fiends.

Her hunting rifle was useless at this range, so she dropped it and reached for her pistol, but another sound behind her told her it was too late. Something smacked her hard against the back of her head, stunning her and she dropped to her knees, vision swimming.

"It's another one of those snipers. Cook-cook's gonna love this." Dazed, she felt her pistol holster stripped from her hip and her bag pulled away, and became aware that the strange grating sensation on her knees was them dragging her against the ground.

"Boone!" She shouted as loud as she could, earning herself a kick in the ribs that knocked all the air out of her. With what little thinking she could do, she hoped that he was around to hear her.

Dropped on the ground in front of a roaring fire, she pushed herself up to look around, to take stock of her surroundings. She didn't get much, as someone wrenched both her arms behind her back and began to bind her wrist with a length of rope. She twisted, attempting to throw them off, but a sharp blow to the back of her head that made stars dance across her vision made her lie still again.

"Where's her partner?"

"Not sure, she was by herself. We don't see anyone."

"Keep looking. He's around here somewhere."

She was turned onto her back, and her shoulders burned in protest. She looked up to a dirty man with a mohawk and metal armor.

"If I had to hazard a guess, you're Cook-Cook." Six groaned. She really was hoping Boone was still alive. She survived a bullet to the brain, but she wasn't sure she wanted to see if she could survive whatever this psychopath had in mind.

"That's right. I'm Cook-Cook, bitch. Best not forget it."

If her head didn't hurt so damn much, she would have rolled her eyes. Sure, she was scared, but really? Forget who he was? She was certain she wouldn't forget him from the smell alone.

"Now...where's your partner? Got plans for him." He asked. Six would love to be a smart ass about it, but honestly, she was too scared to. And her head fucking hurt. She couldn't think of something smart to say.

"Probably lining up a shot on your head right now." Was all she could manage. If Boone was alive, she was almost certain that's what he was doing.

Or would he shoot her instead? After his story from last night, she was now slightly worried he'd do that again, although she wasn't worried about herself. No, she was worried about the man's state of mind if he had to do something similar again.

"I bet he is. Why don't we give him something to watch?" Through her leather armor, Six felt him pawing at her and she grimaced. It made her stomach roll.

The sound of a rifle (a very fucking familiar sounding rifle) made Cook-Cook pause. Outside the shell of the building, one of the brahmin groaned and fell to the ground with a heavy thud she could feel. Another shot, and another brahmin fell.

Cook-Cook moved away from her quicker than she thought was possible in that armor. "Queenie? You son of a bitch!" He screamed in rage, charging through the building. Another shot and his rage died with a gurgle. She heard his metal armor crumple to the ground.

Six crawled as best she could towards one of the rusted shelves that leaned against a wall, hoping to find some sort of sharp object she could use to free herself. The rifle continued, one shot after another, with only short pauses that she assumed were the sharpshooter reloading.

Just as soon as it began, it ended, and the night was filled with quiet again. She kept looking for something sharp, but moving made her head spin and she was already incredibly nauseous and was afraid she'd throw up if she kept it up.

Slumping down on the ground, she rested her forehead against the cool dirt, unable to continue on. She'd rest for just a moment, then continue. She had to free herself.

"There you are." Boone said, scaring her very nearly to death. She hadn't heard him approach, and her entire body sagged with relief. She felt tears prick her eyes.

"I don't think I've ever been so glad to see someone before." She said, lifting herself to look at the sniper. His face was filled with worry but softened with relief. He moved to cut her free, drawing a combat knife from his boot and sawing through the thick ropes.

As soon as her hands were free, she couldn't help herself and flung her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. She felt him go completely still but at the moment, she couldn't bring herself to think about what she was doing.

"I'm such a fucking idiot. I shouldn't have moved. I should have waited for you to get back. I was just worried. I'm sorry." She babbled, her words coming in near sobs.

"Hey. Come on, let's get you back to McCarran so a medic can look you over." He said roughly, gently pushing her away from him. She nodded and then groaned when that movement made her want to throw up again.

"It might be a slow trip. They took my pack and all my chems, knocked me in the head a couple of times too. And they took my weapons." She said, standing up with him but still leaning heavily on him.

"I'll come back with First Recon, gather your stuff and take out Driver Nephi. We have to get you to a medic." Boone said, supporting her weight easily. Carefully the two of them made it out of the ruins of South Vegas and towards the safety of Camp McCarran.

* * *

Inside the medical tent at Camp McCarran, with a doctor buzzing about her checking her vitals and giving her pain medication, she relaxed on the cot she was given. She was drowsy, but she wasn't allowed to sleep just yet. The doctor kept checking to make sure she was awake, and she was told this would continue for the next couple of hours while they made sure she wouldn't suffer any serious side effects.

What was it with people wanting to give her brain injuries? A bullet to the brain wasn't enough?

Since there didn't seem to be anything around for her to read (and she doubted she could with a pounding head anyhow) she let her mind wander, She didn't have much to think about, but she did remember the time when Daniel was screwing around by the lake, and it looked like he had slipped and fallen on the rocks and then into the water. She had never seen someone move so fast as several men and women ran into the water to rescue him.

Six sat up so fast the room spun and she had the strong urge to vomit. She remembered something. She didn't know who Daniel was, but she remembered something from her past. Grinning, which certainly was worrying the doctor, she laid back down on the cot to allow her stomach to settle.

Maybe getting cracked in the head with a pool cue wasn't so bad after all.


	9. Ace of Spades

So, next chapter. Brief warning: a bit of slash. I'm sure you saw it coming. Nothing explicit, but its there. If you want the explicit for both romances going on, do let me know. Until then, I'll continue with being vague.

* * *

"I…..I appreciate your enthusiasm, Mickey. Really, I do. But….oh, that's lovely." Arcade trailed off with a sigh. Mickey nuzzled Arcade's neck, pressing soft kisses along the tender flesh. He was still sleepy, but as with any pleasure in his life, he moved with intent.

They were back in the motel room in Novac. Goodsprings had been a mostly wasted trip, the doctor there not being able to tell them much. Most of it was medical jargon that went over Mickey's head, but Arcade understood it completely and was just as baffled as the doctor was.

There was no way that Caroline should have been able to survive the wound she received. The doctor had pulled out enough shrapnel for there to be two bullets in her brain. It should have killed her instantly, but it didn't. Instead, she was buried in a grave and dug out by a securitron. Doctor Mitchell didn't understand it. Arcade didn't either.

On their trip, they had learned what Caroline had been up to since she woke up from her wound. Helping people. She helped Goodsprings with a Powder Ganger problem, she did the same with Primm, even installing a new sherriff. Radio New Vegas was constantly talking about her accomplishments.

Now, on their way home, they had decided to stop and spend the night back in Novac. Arcade had invited Mickey, rather shyly, to share the bed. Both had been exhausted, so nothing had happened, much to Mickey's disappointment. But Mickey had woken before Arcade, before the sun too, and had decided to wake the other man by pressing his face into Arcade's neck and suckling on the soft skin there.

"Got a long way to go today, don't we?" Mickey murmured, pressing his lips against Arcade's ear. Mickey grinned as Arcade arched his back, hands grasping at Mickey's shoulders. Discovering a lover's most sensitive spots was always thrilling.

"I...yes. We do. I need to get back to Free - if you stop that I might literally kill you." Mickey tongued the very sensitive flesh underneath Arcade's ear, hand slipping underneath the doctor's shirt and sliding over his heart. Mickey smiled at the rapid rate at which the organ worked in Arcade's chest.

"Doctor, I think you may have a problem." MIckey laughed softly, lifting his lips from Arcade's neck and pressing them to the doctor's lips instead.

"You're a bastard, you know that?" Arcade groaned against Mickey's lips, the doctor's hands winding their way into Mickey's hair. Mickey laughed and pushed away from the doctor, throwing himself out of bed before things go too carried away. It had been like this any time they had a moment of privacy now, and Mickey very much wanted to get home and into his own bed before anything progressed any further.

"No, my parents were married, actually. Well before my conception. Actually, I had an older brother. He died in infancy though. But they were married before that." Mickey turned to Arcade and gave him a cheeky grin.

"I think I really hate you." Arcade sighed, dropping into the mattress. Mickey started at the man for a moment, adoring the flushed cheeks and the dazed blue eyes not hidden by glass.

"Good. Hate me. It'll make the sex even better." Mickey said, reaching for his boots and tugging them on. They did have a lot of ground to cover; he hoped to get to Freeside tonight. He ducked into the bathroom to relieve himself and splash water on his face to chase the rest of the sleep away.

"I'll take your word for it." Arcade said from the other room. Mickey frowned. Really? A man at their age, and he hadn't had angry sex at least once?

"Please, for the love of God, tell me you're not a virgin." MIckey leaned out of the bathroom and stared hard at Arcade, who was leaning over the bed tying the laces on his own boots. Arcade looked up, confused.

"I'm not quite sure how that would be a problem if I was. Care to elaborate?"Arcade asked, standing up and reaching for his coat that he had carelessly tossed to the sofa last night. He shook out the wrinkles and pulled it on, and then buckled on the holster for his plasma defender.

"How old are you?" Mickey replied, returning to the sink. A quick splash to his face and he turned the tap off and dried off with the bottom of his shirt.

"Thirty-five. I fail to see how my age has to do with anything."

"Because I can't believe that you, or anyone, really, reached the ripe old age of thirty-five without experiencing the best that life has to offer." Mickey came out of the bathroom and yawned, looking around the room for anything he might have forgotten. He needn't have worried, as he had really just dropped his pack last night, took off his pistol holster and boots and climbed into bed. He belted his pistol around his hips and lifted his pack onto his shoulders.

"You really think sex is the best that life has to offer?" Arcade asked, lifting his own and glaring at the eyebot sticking out of MIckey's pack. "And do we really have to bring that thing with us?"

"For the last time, yes. I'm giving it to Caroline. She had a little eyebot toy as a kid, I'm hoping it'll trigger some memories for her. What's your problem with it anyway?" Mickey had picked the thing up in Primm after stopping at the Mojave Express office to see what they could tell him about Caroline. It was predictably not a whole lot.

"There's just something about that robot that doesn't seem….all right to me. I'm not saying we shouldn't take it with us, obviously your sister's memories are important. But if it were to fall into Lake Mead and be irreparably damaged….and we threw an EMP grenade in after it…"Arcade followed Mickey out the door.

"Arcade Gannon, terrified of an eyebot. Who would have thought." Mickey laughed. They travelled along the road out of Novac at a good pace. Soon the town disappeared behind them.

"I'm not afraid of it. I just….don't trust it. What if it explodes?" Arcade asked and Mickey noticed he was keeping his distance and realized he had been since picking the thing up. There was something about the eyebot that really freaked Arcade out. It was amusing.

"It's not going to explode. It's probably broken anyways. Caroline is good with electronics, so I'll let her tinker with it, but I bet she can't do anything for it. It's an eyebot, Arcade, not an Enclave trooper in power armor with a gatling laser. Harmless." Mickey shook his head. He was insanely curious as to why Arcade seemed to be freaked out over the thing, and he also didn't miss the look of alarm on the doctor's face at the mention of Enclave.

"Run into many of those?" Arcade said almost cautiously. Mickey decided to pretend he didn't notice Arcade's panic.

"Enclave troopers? Can't say that I have. Ran into a couple of Brotherhood of Steel paladins a few years back though. About took my head off too, but thankfully they were more worried about the crashed vertibird than they were about me." Mickey remarked casually. He actually ran into the paladins far from the Vertibird, but he wanted to see how Arcade handled the mention of another piece of Enclave technology. Looking carefully out of the corner of his eye, he saw Arcade staring at the ground instead of ahead. Curious.

"Well, they're both dangerous, I imagine. Best to steer clear of all of them. And you know, since the Brotherhood of Steel likes most kinds of tech, I think it's in our best interest to ditch the eyebot too." Arcade said after a while. Mickey rolled his eyes.

"The eyebot is staying, Arcade."

"Fine, ignore me. Just don't ask me to reattach your arm after your pet murder machine goes into 'search and destroy' mode." Arcade said and Mickey sighed in exasperation. Truth be told he was really just keeping the thing now to irritate Arcade, but he seemed to be getting hysterical over the thing.

"You sound paranoid, Arcade. It's broken." Mickey stopped walking to focus on his companion, who seemed a bit more twitchy now than he had been.

"Do I?" Arcade said, and then repeated the question quieter, almost as if he was speaking to himself. Mickey approached the doctor, cupping Arcade's face in his hands.

"Don't worry. I won't let the big scary eyebot hurt you." Mickey leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Arcade's lips. It was a gentle, chaste kiss, because anything more would get Mickey distracted from his goal.

"Oh, good. Here I was convinced you were taking me to my untimely demise in a ditch somewhere, robbed of all my belongings."

"Don't count that out yet."

* * *

It was late at night when they arrived at Freeside, but it wasn't quiet. Mickey's watch told him it was after midnight, but he wasn't surprised with the sounds of breaking glass, shouts and dogs barking. It was the sounds he was accustomed to.

After the gate closed behind him, Arcade failed to stifle a yawn, setting Mickey off as well. They were both dragging their feet though, Arcade seemingly reluctant to leave Mickey, and Mickey reluctant to leave Arcade. He liked the doctor (for more than just his looks, he swears) and wanted him to stick around more. If Mickey was a joiner, he'd sign up with the Followers of the Apocalypse just to be around Arcade more, but he didn't think he'd look good in a lab coat. Plus, his area of expertise had nothing to do with science.

"Hey. Come stay with me tonight. Julie won't get any help from you as tired as you are. And I bet my bed is more comfortable than whatever they have you sleeping on." Mickey urged Arcade, giving the doctor a hopeful glance. Mickey liked sleeping next to the doctor, if he was being honest with himself. Mickey liked sleeping next to the doctor, if he was being honest with himself. It had been far too long since he slept next to anyone, at least in a bed, and he was almost unwilling to give up the feeling.

"I...Mickey, I'm actually exhausted. I can't-" Arcade started but Mickey cut him off with a look.

"I'm not asking you to get into my bed and sleep with me. Well. I am. But in the literal sense. I'm just as tired. I couldn't pop your cherry even if I wanted to right now." MIckey grinned, tugging the doctor's lab coat towards his small apartment. Arcade sighed and followed along, his footsteps heavy and tired.

"I'm not actually a virgin, if you really want to know. I've had my share of lovers." Arcade said wearily, but Mickey detected a note of sadness underlying his words. He was really too tired to think about it, so he stored the thought away for later. He wouldn't pry, though. MIckey knew what it was like to lose a lover. He'd lost a few over the years, and it never was easy.

It took him longer than usual to unlock his apartment, which he attributed to the dark and his exhaustion. Inside, he barely managed to get into the door before he dropped his pack. He'd get to in the morning. Or afternoon, whenever he woke up. Arcade shuffled in behind him, closing and locking the door.

"Go ahead and crash, I'm going to shower." Mickey stumbled towards his small bathroom, stripping his clothes off as he went. He really was too tired to care. The water was lukewarm thanks to the solar heater on the roof, but after days on the road, he wasn't about to complain. The soap he used was made by one of the older ladies in Freeside, and Mickey was happy to buy it from her since she was a widow and had little means to support herself in her old age.

It was a quick shower, as he was too tired for anything more, and he stepped out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. He expected Arcade to be asleep already, but the other man was sitting on a corner of the bed, elbows on his knees and head resting in his hands. Arcade looked up Mickey and started at his state of undress.

"Oh, come on, Arcade. You're a doctor. You've seen bodies naked before. At least, I hope you have." Mickey went to the cabinet where he haphazardly stored his clothes and dug around in the drawer for a t-shirt to sleep in. He glanced down at the towel and decided some kind of pants would be helpful too.

"I...it's not that. You just have so many scars. I never really saw them before." Arcade stood up and approached Mickey carefully. Mickey turned so his back was against the cabinet. He wasn't afraid of showing any of his scars except those and was used to hiding them from view.

Arcade cautiously reached out and traced a hand across the slim scar that went from Mickey's left collarbone down his pectoral muscle. It was from his early twenties - a practice fight gone wrong. The next one was across his ribs, a jagged scar that bled for days. That happened in an actual fight, against raiders. It had bled for days but thankfully had never gotten infected.

Hands traced lower across the various other scars Mickey didn't even remember getting, finally reaching the towel slung low around his hips. Blue eyes darted up to meet Mickey's. Arcade froze with his hands at the towel.

"I thought you were tired." Mickey breathed, admittedly more than a little turned on. He gripped the t-shirt tightly in one hand, but the other drifted up and caressed the doctor's shoulder, following the curve up to his neck.

"I am." Arcade said and dipped his head, kissing Mickey hesitantly. It was a sweet, gentle kiss that made Mickey and every animal instinct he had cry out for more. But he spent most of his life perfecting his self control, so he was able to keep it locked up. Mostly. He couldn't resist nipping at Arcade's bottom lip.

The doctor swayed on his feet. Mickey reached out and caught him, steadying the clearly exhausted man. Mickey smiled and guided the doctor back to bed, gently stripping him of his coat and shirt.

"I really should shower." Arcade mumbled when Mickey dumped him into the bed. Mickey tugged Arcade's boots off too and dropped him into bed on top of the sheets he hadn't bothered to make up before he left a week ago.

"The sheets have seen worse. Go to sleep, Arcade." Mickey said, returning to his wardrobe with a sigh. He tugged on the t-shirt and found a pair of shorts and slid those on too. He tossed the towel over a chair and followed Arcade into bed.

The doctor rolled over and blinked owlishly at Mickey, which he found oddly adorable. It gave him a familiar feeling in his stomach, which he ignored for now. It was way too soon for that.

"When I was seventeen, I sneaked out after curfew and met up with Jacob. It was the first time I'd kissed anyone. First time for a lot of things. " Arcade said, reaching for Mickey and pulling him closer. Mickey sighed and leaned into the embrace. He missed this. He hadn't slept next to anyone since….well, since before he lost his home.

"What happened to him?" Mickey wrapped his arm around the doctor, not caring that the man was covered in the dust of the road and sweat and whatever else they had come in contact with. He was warm and there and Mickey was very much living in the moment.

"We moved. Did that a lot when I was a kid. Never stayed in one place for very long." Arcade's eyelids drooped and he fought to keep them open. Mickey leaned in and kissed Arcade softly.

"I'll give you another first when you wake up." Mickey murmured, tucking the doctor underneath his chin, wrapping his arms around the man as best he could. Arcade made a sleepy sound against Mickey's chest.

Mickey fell asleep with a warm, happy feeling he hadn't felt for ten years.

* * *

Rolling over in bed, Mickey reached for Arcade. His hands touched cold, empty sheets and he cracked open his eyelids to look around. The room wasn't very big, with the small kitchen and table tucked into the other corner, but it was empty. Mickey felt crushing disappointment until he heard a sound from his bathroom.

Mickey climbed out of bed and moved towards the bathroom and recognized the sound of running water. It had just started, so it must be Arcade taking a shower. Carefully, Mickey eased the door open and peered inside. He could see the shadow of Arcade behind the curtain and briefly debated on whether or not he wanted to scare the doctor.

"I won't be too much longer, if you wanted to grab another one." Arcade's sudden words had Mickey flinching. He was more perceptive than Mickey gave him credit for.

"Take your time. I'm the only one that uses it, really. The guy in the other apartment rarely bathes."Mickey leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms over his chest. This section of Freeside was mostly abandoned and he leased the apartment from the Kings, which kept anyone undesirable from setting up shop in the area. The only other resident was the man Mickey mentioned, and quite understandably, Mickey didn't do much interacting with him.

"Maybe it's because you steal all his water." Arcade shut the tap off and reached for the greyed towel hanging on a hook just beyond the curtain. The curtain was pulled back a moment later, and Arcade stepped out with the towel wrapped around his waist. Mickey noted that he was avoiding making eye contact and allowed himself a smirk.

"I think he's just too lazy. It's not like he has anyone to impress with his cleanliness anyways." Mickey didn't either, not really, although being clean was a holdover from childhood. They lived on a lake that had relatively clean water, so bathing wasn't hard to do. Here, even with their proximity to Lake Mead, water was harder to come by. A lot of it was also mildly irradiated.

"And I take it you do." Arcade reached for his clothing folded neatly on the counter and frowned when he lifted his dirty t-shirt.

"I do now. Wanna borrow some of mine? Can't promise they'll fit great, but at least they're clean." Mickey's shirts would fit him just fine, but any pants of his might be a bit short. It wasn't often Mickey met someone taller than he was.

"Julie will love that. She has been telling me that I need to get laid." Arcade followed Mickey from the bathroom, clutching the towel around his waist. Mickey found a shirt and a pair of cargo pants that wouldn't be too short on the doctor and turned around.

"Well, if the doctor orders it, I'd be quite happy to fill your prescription." He grinned, purposely dragging his gaze down from Arcade's face and across his bare chest. He was surprisingly in shape for a doctor who spent most of his time in a chair doing research. When he lifted his eyes back up to Arcade's face, he found the doctor with pink cheeks and a half-hearted glare in his eyes.

"I don't think you're qualified to dispense medication of any kind." Arcade reached for the clothing in Mickey's arms but Mickey decided to set them down in one of the open drawers of the cabinet and reached for Arcade.

"Oh, I'm more than qualified." Mickey pulled the doctor against him, cutting off Arcade's squawk of surprise with a rough, demanding kiss that was more teeth and tongue than it was lips. Arcade recovered nicely though, answering Mickey's ever increasing hunger for the blond doctor, hands fisting in Mickey's hair. Mickey allowed his hands to move from shoulders down a chest with a fine dusting of hair, just as pale as on Arcade's head, savoring the smooth skin untouched by the scars that littered Mickey's.

When Mickey reached the towel bunched at Arcade's waist, he realized that the only thing keeping the towel up was their hips pressed together, but he was loathe to even move an inch away to tug the offending piece of cloth.

"Stop me now or I'm going to take you to my bed and you won't leave it until I'm done with you." Mickey breathed against Arcade's ear, grinning viciously at the delicious shudder that ran up Arcade's spine.

"Stop asking and just do it already." Arcade muttered impatiently. Mickey obliged, roughly shoving the doctor towards the bed.

* * *

Mickey whistled cheerfully as he settled in at his usual table at the Tops, his stack of chips cradled carefully in one hand. Unfortunately Mickey couldn't keep Arcade in bed all day, as much as he would have liked. The doctor had research he had to finish, and Mickey was itching to play cards again. Well, he was really just itching to see Caroline, but cards would keep him busy until she came around.

He dropped his stack of chips on the table and pushed ten of them forward as he was dealt his cards. Blackjack was his game, and he was exceptionally good at it.

His first round went well, with a king and a 10 of diamonds giving him a win. The next few rounds went the same, and he was quickly winning his caps back and then some. He gradually increased his bets and his luck held out. Soon he had a neat pile of chips beside him. He was always careful not to win too many caps at a time, because the casino liked their caps just where they were, but he bounced around to the other casinos too and was able to keep them from throwing him out so far.

As he played, he listened to the conversation of the other players. Sometimes he would participate, but he wanted to find out what went on since he was gone.

"When'd that happen? I didn't hear anything about it?"

"Just this morning! Strolled right up to the securitron outside, and it opened up and let her in. Just the First Recon girl though. The others had to wait outside, but after a while, they went in too! Crazy."

"Did they ever come out?"

"Oh yeah, they did. From what I hear, they're going in and out as they please."

"What the hell. I want to go into the Lucky 38."

"Ha! Fat chance. You've got a better chance of getting into bed with Benny."

"Everyone has a chance of getting into bed with Benny."

Mickey looked surreptitiously over his shoulder at the two women behind him at another blackjack table. Their conversation, probably louder than they wanted, told him two things. One, someone had gotten into the Lucky 38, which as far as he knew had never happened before. Mr. House never let anyone in, preferring to communicate through his securitrons. Two, there was someone around named Benny.

Scooping up his chips and tucking them into a pack, he moved over to the other table and sat down beside the two women. With a charming smile, he leaned on the table and looked over towards them.

"Hey, I couldn't help but hear your conversation. I'm not really from around here, could you tell me more about Benny?"

"Hey's only the most handsome guy at the Tops." The women in the green dress fanned herself with her hand. Mickey raised his eyebrows in feigned interest. He couldn't care less if the guy was good looking.

"Oh please, Emily. He's not that great looking. But he is the head of the Chairmen here. Everyone knows that. He just got back from some trip too, or so I hear. Swank, over there at the front desk, told me." Her friend, this woman in a pink dress, cast a dreamy look towards Mickey. "Swank tells me all kinds of things. I'd be happy to tell you more."

Mickey reached over and trailed his fingers up her arm. If he was honest with himself, she wasn't really his type, as he recently discovered he loved blondes, but he didn't mind putting on an act.

"Tell me all you'd like." He winked and leaned on his arms, doing his best to look interested.

"Ugh. I'm gonna go get another drink." Green dress got up and walked away. The woman in pink kept playing, and Mickey decided to play too, before the dealer got upset at him for taking up a seat. He kept his bet low in case he wasn't able to keep his concentration on the game.

"Don't mind her. Anyhow. Swank and I are kind of a thing, so he tells me everything. Benny just got back from some trip. He was looking for a courier. Not sure for what, but he just got back. I saw him come in here a few days ago, and he went straight up to his room and hasn't left in a few days. Oh, shit. I suck at this game." She sighed as she lost a round and Mickey won his with a natural 21. He chewed the inside of his lip a little as he thought about his next move.

He obviously couldn't go up to Benny's suite. There's no way he'd get past the number of guards that were undoubtedly on the floor. He'd have to think of another way to get up there. And while he could certainly kill Benny with his bare hands, he'd prefer to go armed. It was just easier.

"Could you give me a tip? You seem to be pretty good." The woman's words were laced with innuendo, but Mickey didn't have time to play this game out longer.

"I've actually got to go, but I'll do my best next time, beautiful." Mickey winked and pulled his chips from the table. She sighed dramatically as he left. Mickey stopped by the cashier to trade his chips for caps. He had over five hundred from tonight's games, which would have him sitting pretty for a while. Breezing out of the Tops, he tucked his hands in his pockets and made his way towards the gate to Freeside.

In Freeside, he found himself wishing that he was armed. It'd hardly be the first time he had killed someone with his bare hands, he didn't like to get that close, especially with the amount of caps he was carrying. He rarely, if ever, brought a gun to the Strip. He didn't like the bouncers taking his weapons, especially since his pistol was a gift from his father.

He passed the Old Mormon Fort and contemplated stopping into see Arcade, but he really wanted to get home and hide his caps. He'd go in the morning and bother the doctor. He wanted a round two with Arcade, which he was hoping would happen soon.

Mickey rounded the corner and was greeted by four men, three of which had impressive knives. The other one held a pistol, and it was aiming right at him.

"Hey fellas. Good night for a stroll." Mickey said, throwing his hands up and internally cursing his focus tonight. Normally they would have never gotten the drop on him.

"Caps. Now." The man waved the gun at him. Mickey sighed. Normally he was left alone, but he was also normally obviously armed.

"Sure. No problem." Mickey took a couple cautious steps towards the group, bringing him within arm's reach of the nearest man with the knife. Carefully, he reached down towards his pockets. As all their eyes dropped with his hands, Mickey lunged, grabbing the wrist of the man and twisting him, forcing him to drop the knife.

Mickey twisted his torso, pulling the man in front of him to use as a shield as the man with the gun opened fire. Mickey tossed the body towards the other two and took a step and turned, kicking the gun from the man's hand and across the street. Spinning around again, he scooped up the knife and when his turn was completed, he flipped the knife in his hand and threw it handle first towards the man who used to have the gun. It lodged in his throat and he went down gurgling.

"Oh shit!" One of the thugs scrambled up from the ground and bolted, his knife clattering to the ground as he ran. The other seemed to be braver and swung wildly towards Mickey with his knife. Mickey was able to jump out of the way. He ducked under another swing and reached up and grabbed the arm. Mickey kicked out one of the thug's knees and the man howled in pain and lurched forward.

Mickey twisted the man's arm around so the thug fell onto his own knife, and the force of the man falling forward knocked Mickey onto his back. He felt the warmth of the man's blood spilling onto his shirt.

He also felt an unfortunately familiar cold pain of a blade sliding just underneath his ribs.

Mickey groaned and shoved the dying man off him and looked down to see the handle of a switchblade sticking out of his torso. Looks like he was going to see Arcade sooner than later.

Gripping the handle of the blade, he tugged it free with a painful gasp and tossed it aside. Blood welled up and covered his shirt, and Mickey pressed his hand to it. He'd had worse wounds, but he also had someone around to patch him up immediately.

He stumbled to his feet and tried to ignore the blood welling over his fingers. The Mormon Fort wasn't far, surely he could make it there. He had made it there with head wounds before. Still, he was bleeding a lot.

A few more steps and he realized he was bleeding way more than he should have. How long was that blade? It must have nicked something important. Pain was radiating out from the wound, making it hard to concentrate but he knew that he had to get to someone.

He made it down the street before he started to get dizzy and the pain started to become unbearable. He knew that shock would be coming soon and he wouldn't feel the pain, so for now it was a good sign. He could see the walls of the Fort and smiled, continuing his wavering steps, until he fell to his knees with his head spinning.

"Shit. C'mon Rosales, you've survived worse. Legion raids, Ranger training, Mirelurks...you can make it." He muttered to himself, pushing himself back up on his feet. He made it another few steps before falling again.

This time, he couldn't get himself back up. He felt cold now, and tired. But still in pain. Looks like the shock wasn't coming just yet, but he wasn't going anywhere.

Mickey lay in the street, staring up at whatever stars were visible and hoped that someone would find him soon. He'd pray, but he wasn't really a praying man.

He heard the heavy gate of the Fort open and sighed in relief. He managed to sit up and saw two people coming towards him. He waved, hoping that they could see him. It used more of his rapidly fading energy than he anticipated, and he dropped back again with a sigh.

"Holy shit, is he okay?" A feminine voice said, and he heard two sets of footsteps hurrying towards him. His vision started to grey, but he noticed a woman wearing a set of brown robes kneel down beside him.

"He's not looking so good. Help me get him up, he needs a doctor." A male voice this time, rough, and if Mickey had complete control of his senses, he'd say the woman's companion was a ghoul.

"Yeah, no shit. Oh my god he's huge." The woman groaned as she lifted Mickey. He bit back a groan of his own and grabbed a handful of the woman's robe.

"If it's alright with the two of you, I'm going to pass out now." Mickey said and then his world went black as he lost consciousness.


	10. Rooster

"I wish I had more answers for you, but I really don't know how you survived. I'm hardly an expert on the brain, but it should have killed you."

Six was sitting in a chair inside the Old Mormon Fort while Arcade Gannon paced in front of her. She tapped her foot impatiently, wishing he had more good news for her.

"I don't care about that. I want to know why another knock to the head triggered a memory for me. It was fragmented, and I couldn't tell you all of what happened." Six followed the man's path with her eyes and then looked over to Boone who was standing inside the tent with her, leaning against the desk. Raul was by the tent flap and Veronica was seated beside Six on the ground. The small tent was actually quite crowded.

"I really don't know. The brain is a very complex organ, and even before the War not a lot was known about it." Arcade paused his pacing. Six frowned at him.

"While it's a good thing that you're starting to remember some things, I'd recommend against any more knocks to the head. Just my professional opinion though." He moved to his desk, carefully keeping out of Boone's space, and started poking through his papers.

"I actually know a specialist who might be able to tell you more, but he's actually all the way in Shady Sands. I can send him a message and see if he can make sense of it, but it might be a while." He lifted a paper, looked it over briefly, shook his head and moved on to another one.

"I'm still feeling a little achey. Mind if I head on to back to the 38 and get rest?" Veronica asked in the silence. Six looked down at her and shrugged.

"If you need to. Raul, Boone, you want to walk her back?" Six asked the other two men as Veronica climbed to her feet. The woman's face was pinched with pain, and Six wished she had noticed earlier. She was still bruised from her beating by super mutants and she had refused serious medication because she insisted that others needed it more.

"I'll do it, Boss. It'll make me feel better to know you have someone walking you back too." Raul offered. Six resisted rolling her eyes, knowing he was just concerned for her. But honestly, she was more than capable of taking care of herself.

"Alright well I'll be back in a little bit. Get some sleep and we'll discuss some plans in the morning over breakfast." Six watched them go and then turned her attention back to Arcade.

"If you could do that, I'd be very grateful. If you have the time though, I'm not sure how busy you are." Six told the doctor, who was still shuffling through his papers. Doctors were busy people, right? I mean, he was travelling with that brother of hers….come to think of it, why were they travelling together? And where was he now?

"Oh, I just do research around here. Well, mostly. Sometimes we are short-handed." Arcade replied, setting a stack of paper aside. Six noticed that his desk was littered with books and papers. It was kind of obvious now.

"What kind of research do you do?" She asked curiously. She knew the Followers were all about knowledge and education of all kinds, but she had always figured that most of that information had been destroyed in the war.

"Oh, you know. Finding alternative treatments for common illnesses and injuries. Stimpaks out of barrel cacti and other fantastic improbabilities. As far as fruitless wastes of time go, it's quite noble in its aims." Arcade stopped his search through his papers and stepped away from the desk to look at her again. She smiled at his sarcasm and wondered if she could convince him to come away from his research and travel with her. Having a doctor around would be a good thing.

"You don't sound too enthusiastic about it." Boone said in response. Arcade shrugged and crossed his arms over his chest.

"I'm enthusiastic about helping people, but nihil novi sub sole." He replied. Six frowned. What the hell did he just say? It certainly wasn't English.

"Nihi-what?" She asked, completely confused. She hadn't heard anything like that before. At least, not since she woke up.

"Isn't that the language the Legion speaks?" Boone asked, suspicion in his voice. Arcade rolled his eyes.

"Caesar can cite Cato to suit his purpose. Many people have spoken Latin and some of them were quite pleasant. It's unfortunate that -" Arcade's sentence was cut off by a woman outside the tent shouting for help. Six stood up from her chair immediately, recognizing the voice.

"That's Veronica." She automatically reached down and thumbed the safety catch off her pistol holster but the lack of gunfire kept her from drawing it. Boone and Arcade followed.

Raul and Veronica were struggling through the gate with a body between them, and a few of the guards had moved from their posts to help.

"You stupid bastard." Arcade said when they got closer, his voice suddenly thick with emotion. Six recognized the man they gently laid on the ground. It was Mickey, the guy who was supposed to be her brother. And he was covered in blood.

"He's still alive. At least, he was a minute ago. He passed out on us." Veronica explained, stepping back as Arcade knelt down by the unconscious man. Arcade lifted Mickey's arm and felt at his wrist for a moment before frowning and reaching up for his neck.

"I gave him a stimpack because I felt like he was absolutely going to die otherwise, but it was all I had." Veronica looked worried, twisting her hands together. The sleeve of her robe was covered in blood. "He's bleeding so much.""Arcade? What's going on?" Six looked over at the new voice and saw a woman with wild hair approaching. She was wearing a coat similar to Arcade's and Six assumed she was another doctor. "Oh, not again, Mickey." She groaned and knelt down next to Arcade.

"Kevin, go wake up Doctor Kitchens, we'll need her help. You in the beret, get over here. Help us lift him into the surgery tent. Carefully." The woman ordered, a pair of scissors appearing in her hand. She cut off the blood-soaked shirt with practiced ease.

Six wasn't sure what she was supposed to be feeling at this moment, but she felt concerned. It was probably a natural human reaction to seeing someone injured like he was. She wondered if she'd feel different if she could actually remember who he was.

Boone helped them lift Mickey and she followed at a distance, watching them take him into a wide tent. Boone came out a moment after, closing the tent flap behind him. He didn't seem bothered, but as a soldier he was probably used to seeing stuff like this.

Six didn't like seeing it happen to people she knew. Or people she was supposed to know.

A small blonde doctor brushed past them, the woman ducking into the surgery tent with an armful of supplies. It was probably Doctor Kitchens.

"I hope he's alright." Six said after a long while. She considered staying here to see how he was, but she didn't know how long it would take, and she was also worried about Veronica.

"Followers doctors are some of the best you can find. It's what they do." Raul said softly, patting the woman on the shoulder.

"He's right. A lot of the NCR medics are trained by the Followers doctors. Your brother is in good hands." Boone said. Two pairs of eyes looked at Six.

"He's your brother? Oh man, that sucks. Caroline, I'm sorry." Veronica sad and tried to reach out to give Six a hug. Six stopped her.

"I appreciate it, but lets wait until you're cleaned up, alright?" Six said, pointing at the woman's bloody robe. She had precious little clothing already, she didn't want to stain what she had with blood.

"Yeah, good plan."

"Lets get back to the 38. I'll come in the morning and check on him. You can get cleaned up and rest." Six threw her arm around the woman, careful to avoid the bloody part of her clothing, and guided her away from the tent.

Outside the gates of the fort, Boone unslung his rifle and held it in his hands ready for him to use. Six also drew her 10mm pistol for the same reason. She wasn't planning on being the next victim of whoever stabbed Mickey. Thankfully though, the walk to the Strip gate was uneventful, and they holstered their weapons so the securitrons didn't bark at them for being armed.

Inside the Lucky 38, Veronica had stripped herself of her robe and had donned some of Six's spare clothing while she cleaned her own in the bathtub. Raul had gone to sleep, claiming it was well past that old man's bed time.

Six found herself sitting at the kitchen table with a bottle of scotch sitting in front of her. It had been sitting in the refrigerator and while it was obviously a Pre-War bottle, it was still sealed. She figured it was fine, since it was alcohol. She had filled a glass with it and was sipping at it, staring at the opposite wall. The wallpaper in here was really ugly and it made it too dark.

She should be feeling upset, right? Worried about Mickey. She had no reason not to believe he was her brother, but then again, she had no reason to believe him either. She wasn't sure if she should do something about it. And why had Arcade seem so broken up over it? He was a doctor, surely he'd seen things like that before. Maybe they were friends.

Boone entered the kitchen and sat down at the table, on the opposite end. She slid the bottle over to him and he caught it easily and then leaned backwards to snag a cup from the shelf behind him. Once his was filled, she lifted her cup in a silent salute and took another sip.

The bottle was passed back and forth between the two of them for a while. Six began to fiddle with her Pip-Boy and realized that it was now four in the morning. She yawned and stood up from the table, gripping it tightly as she swayed.

"You didn't have to sit up with me, you know." She told Boone, who was also standing. He shrugged and slid his chair back under the table. She didn't bother, as she'd just get up in a few hours anyway to get breakfast and sit in the same spot.

"You didn't have to listen to me the other night." He replied and she frowned. Of course she didn't HAVE to, but she wanted to. Its what friends did for each other.

"It's what friends do, right?" She asked him. He cocked his head meaningfully and then left the room. Six meant to follow, but she stopped to think for a second.

Did that mean he considered her a friend?

* * *

The next morning came, cold even for the temperature controlled suite at the Lucky 38. Six found herself walking with Boone back to the Follower's camp, bundled up to ward off the early morning chill. Boone wore a jacket over his usual t-shirt, but even with the added bulk, he still appeared rail thin. She made a note to talk to him about eating properly as well.

During the short walk to the Follower's camp, she was again assaulted by how terrible Freeside was. She didn't know much about how things were, but with the children running in the streets, running around bodies just lying there, she could guess. She passed drug addicts begging for caps or more chems and a few shadier looking people who looked like they were more than willing to jump her had she not had her sniper shadowing her.

They probably would have attacked the both of them had they not been so openly armed, both with hunting rifles slung across their backs, and Six with a recently acquired .357 revolver in place of the machete Boone wore.

Inside the fort, there wasn't much activity. It was still early morning, so many of the doctors not on duty were asleep. Some of the guards were milling about, eating their breakfasts or chatting with each other. Six ignored them and went looking for any doctor on duty.

She found Arcade sitting at his desk with what appeared to be an untouched cup of coffee. He was slumped in a chair and for a brief moment, Six thought he was dead, thanks to how absolutely lifeless he looked. And then he sighed.

"Um...Doctor Gannon?" Six asked carefully and he started. He turned to look at her and sighed again, scrubbing his face with his hands.

"He's alive. Be sure to to let your friend know that her stimpack saved his life. I'm not sure when he'll be awake though, so I don't know when he'll be able to answer your questions. He's in the next tent over resting if you want to see him, but I've found sleeping men horribly boring conversationalists." Arcade told her. She noticed his eyes, normally a very pretty shade of blue, were reddened and glazed. He had been up all night by the looks of it.

"I just wanted to know if he was okay. You look exhausted." Six said to him and he gave a short laugh.

"He's kept me up later than I should be on more than one night now. I shouldn't be surprised anymore." Arcade shook his head and stood up. Six had to catch him as he wavered and almost fell over.

"You need to lay down, Doctor."Six guided him back into his chair, where he slumped wearily. Arcade rubbed his face again and reached for his coffee, drinking it in large gulps. He finished the mug and set it aside.

"I'll sleep when I know he's alright. He's my patient." Arcade insisted, trying to get up again. Six pushed him back down in the chair. There were plenty of doctors around, they could keep an eye on Mickey. This doctor needed sleep.

"I'm willing to bet that he's more than that. There are other doctors around here, they can watch him until you get some rest." Six looked around and found a cot set up at the end of the tent with a blanket piled at the end. She looked up at Boone and nodded towards the bed. Arcade was twice her size, so she'd need a little help getting him over there.

"Is it that obvious?" Arcade sighed, allowing himself to be lifted from his chair and guided towards the bed. Six smirked as he collapsed onto the cot.

"No, but the big hickey on your neck is a big clue." Six eyed the red and purple mark poking out from underneath his collar. Arcade lifted a hand to his neck and touched the mark, a smile lifting his lips.

"I'm gonna kill him for this." He murmured and shortly after his eyes fluttered closed and he fell asleep. Six left the tent, Boone behind her, and moved on to the next one. She wanted to see for her own eyes just how Mickey Rosales was doing.

She found him lying on a mattress in the next tent, a blanket tucked around him. He was pale, but his face was calm in his sleep. Six knelt down beside him and studied his features. She had to admit to herself that they did look similar. And now, while he was sleeping, she felt a sense of familiarity.

She wasn't sure if she was still Caroline Rosales, but Mickey Rosales was indeed her brother. She believed that now, even if she didn't actually know it.

Her Pip-Boy crackled to life, a message from a woman coming through the speakers and she hurried to kill the sound, turning the volume knob all the way down so she didn't disturb him. Ducking out of the tent, she lifted her arm and replayed the message from the beginning.

_Has your life taken a turn? Do troubles beset you? Has fortune left you behind? If so, the Sierra Madre Casino, in all its glory, is inviting you to begin again. Come to a place where wealth, excitement and intrigue await around every corner. Stroll along the winding streets of our beautiful resort, make new friends, or rekindle old flames. Let your eyes take in the luxurious expanse of the open desert under clear star-lit skies. Gaze straight on into the sunset from our villa rooftops. Countless diversions await: Gamble in our casino, take in the theater, or stay in one of our exclusive executive suites that will shelter you and cater to your every whim. So if life's worries have weighed you down, if you need an escape from your troubles, or if you just need an opportunity to begin again, join us, let go, and leave the world behind at the Sierra Madre grand opening this October... We'll be waiting._

Six frowned at the message. the Sierra Madre casino? It wasn't one she had heard of. She was wondering why she was just picking up the broadcast now, and listened to the message again as it repeated.

"Have you ever heard of this place? Sierra Madre?" She asked Boone after switching off the radio. She recorded the message just in case the broadcast stopped.

"I've seen Old World posters, heard a few stories about prospectors finding it, but I've never seen any actual proof of it. It's probably an old Pre-War message." Boone replied with a shrug. She sighed and put it out of her mind for now. She had more important things to worry about than some old Pre-War casino. She had casinos enough to deal with right now. Benny was holed up in the Tops, and Veronica had come back from her exploration of the Strip with some troubling rumors about Gomorrah and the Ultra Luxe.

"It's not important. Feel like taking a trip with me? I need to head back to the Mojave outpost. We can leave Vee and Raul here, let her recover a bit more. Who knows, maybe we'll run into Legionaries." She said, moving back into the tent to check on her brother one more time. Boone gave her a smirk, something she didn't see often (or at all) from the man.

"Running into Legionaries is never a good thing." Mickey's eyes fluttered open as he spoke and she took a step back, startled, before recovering.

"Go get a doctor." She told Boone and then turned back to Mickey, kneeling down next to the mattress he rested on. Mickey smiled weakly at her, reaching up to touch her arm. She smiled back at him and rested her hand over his.

"Didn't realize you were in town." He said and she shrugged at him. She hadn't expected him to be here, thinking he'd still be off doing whatever he did. She was going to start looking for him eventually, after she got everything settled with her courier job.

"Had to talk to Mr. House about the chip I was supposed to deliver. I was going to come find you after I returned it." She settled herself on the ground next to him, lifting the strap of her hunting rifle over her shoulder to set it on the ground next to her. "But you had to go and get yourself stabbed and ruined all my plans."

Mickey laughed and then groaned in pain, moving his arms to clutch his stomach. She frowned at him.

"Yeah, looks like we both are good at getting stupid injuries. Do you remember anything?" Mickey tried to lift himself up on his elbows, but judging by the pinched look on his face, he was in an incredible amount of pain. She wasn't sure if she should give him any of the Med-X sitting on a nearby table, so instead she tried to distract him with conversation.

"A few things, actually. Not much, just little pieces. Nothing solid. I...well, I remember this one time, I think I was eight or nine, and we were out by a lake. Playing by these rocks, and you kept yelling at me not to climb on them. And then this guy, Daniel, I think. I'm not sure who he is. But he climbed up on top of them, insisting that it was perfectly safe. And then he slipped and fell, and everyone panicked. There must have been ten people jumping into the lake to go get him, because it looked like he hit his head." Six laughed then, remembering the event much more

clearly every time she thought about it. It was like that with the few things she could remember.

"But the bastard just stands up and laughs, like nothing had happened. Turns out, he had just barely missed cracking his skull open." Mickey finished her story and she smiled at him.

"Yeah. I seem to remember you were one of the people panicking." Six poked him in the arm. Mickey grinned at her and rolled his eyes.

"Who is Daniel anyways? Most of what I remember involves him in some way." She asked and Mickey's smile faded. She almost regretted asking the question when a sad look flashed on his face.

"He was my….our best friend. We grew up together. He taught you how to forage in the desert. Had a knack for it. He was like another brother to you." Mickey told her and Six fiddled with the hem of her jacket while she thought. She wished she could remember more, but it was just small things like Daniel teaching her to skip rocks or walking along the shoreline with both Daniel and Mickey, although she couldn't remember what they had been talking about.

"What happened to him?" Six asked, genuinely curious. She figured there was more about their relationship but she didn't pry for now, hoping that the memories would come back in time.

"When the Legion raided Havasu, they killed him. It was quick, he didn't suffer. Small mercy." Mickey looked at the tent ceiling, crossing his arms over his stomach. Six sighed.

"I'm sorry. I wish I could remember more." She said and turned around when she heard footsteps behind her. Boone had returned with a doctor and she scrambled out of the way. It was Doctor Kitchens and she was quick and efficient in her checkup and administered a dose of Med-X at his request.

"Don't worry about it. It'll come back in time." Mickey sighed sleepily, the medication taking effect quickly. Six watched him fall asleep.

"He'll be out for the next few hours. But he's recovering nicely and a few more doses of stimpacks will have him on his feet in a day or two. He'll have to take it easy, of course." Doctor Kitchens told Six. She thanked the woman for her time and let her go tend to her other patients.

"Lets go get our things, and we'll take that trip and be back in time for his release." She said to Boone, picking up her rifle and slinging it over her shoulder. He nodded and the two left the Fort side by side.

* * *

"I see two over by the ridge and another one in the tent."

"Yeah, I see them. There's another pair by the hostages, just behind the tent."

"Wind is minimal. Range is 600 yards. Your scope should be zeroed in. Take the shot when you're ready."

Six stared at the Legionary through the new scope on her hunting rifle. She lined up the crosshairs on a stationary target and controlled her breathing. Lifting her finger from the trigger guard, she wrapped her finger around the trigger and squeezed.**  
**

Six hundred yards out, a Legionary fell to the ground when the .308 round pierced his skull. She lined up another shot as the other Legionaries moved to investigate their fallen comrade and squeezed the trigger again.

Beside her, Boone's rifle cracked loudly twice and through her own scope, she saw another two Legionaries drop to the ground, missing the better part of their skulls. Headshots were harder for her, but Boone excelled at making that difficult shot. She took out the last Legionary with a shot to his torso, the force of the bullet spinning him around before he fell.

"Nice work." Boone grunted, scanning through the rest of the camp for any more Legionaries. She kept looking too, ignoring the growing ache in her neck to make sure the area was secure. But no one else showed up for a long while. Finally Boone stood and she followed his movements.

"Thanks. You're not so bad yourself." She flashed him a sassy smirk his way before slinging her rifle over her shoulder. She upholstered her pistol and moved towards the camp. She felt rather proud of herself, happy that one of NCR's best recognized her talent with a rifle.

At the camp, the freed two Powder Ganger prisoners. Normally, she'd be opposed to letting convicts go, but they had been through enough for one lifetime. They hurried off without saying much. She looted what she could, snatching up more Legion coin and some weapons she stripped for useful parts. A few she tucked into her pack to sell for caps later

She was slightly disappointed she didn't find any of the men wearing fox heads. Vulpes Inculta still gave her nightmares and she would have felt better about killing him.

"Feel any better?" Six asked when they found themselves along the road again. Boone looked over at her, a vicious smile on his face. She grinned back at him.

"Too bad there weren't more of them." He commented. She shrugged. Honestly, she didn't mind that she didn't need to kill any more, but at the same time, she wanted to sate Boone's bloodlust for the Legion. She had a feeling though, that they'd have to take them all out for Boone's soul to be settled.

That night the two of them made camp inside a deserted farmhouse, taking shelter from the cold wind that had picked up. They made a fire in the fireplace from the broken bits of furniture in the house and while it was hardly the Lucky 38's presidential suite, it was cozy enough for the night.

"Here, finish this. I can't eat anymore." Six passed over what was left of the brahmin stew they put together from the foodstuffs they had picked up throughout the day. Boone looked at her questioningly. She shoved the bowl farther towards him.

"Eat. C'mon, you're skinnier than I am." She insisted. He picked up the bowl and finished what was left and she smiled happily at him. She was glad to see he was eating, and she'd make sure she passed whatever food she couldn't eat to him.

"I probably haven't taken care of myself like I should have." He muttered, mostly to himself. She shrugged at him.

"That's what you have me for. We're friends. I care about you." She cleared their dishes when he was done, scraping them out as best she could. The water pump was outside so she'd rinse them in the morning. For now, she set them away on a shelf and laid out her blankets as close to the fire as she could.

"You really shouldn't." Boone sighed, setting out his bedroll. Six rolled her eyes at that.

"Haven't found a way to kill me yet." She replied, laying down and wrapping her blanket around her tightly.

"You might not want to be my friend if you've known what I've done." Boone retorted, his voice a little irritated. Six groaned in exasperation.

"Did you shoot me in the head?"

"No."

"Are you a secret rapist?"

"No."

"Did you single handedly cause the Great War?"

"Of course not."

"Then I don't give a shit what you've done, Craig. It's in the past, and try as we might, we can't change it. So deal with it. I'm your friend." Six shook her head and rolled onto her side to look at the sniper.

"Yeah. Guess so." He murmured, lacing his fingers behind his head.

"One day though, you're going to tell me what's bothering you so much. Get it off your chest." She said and he froze.

"I….I can't talk about it right now." He said after a long moment of silence.

"I'm not asking you to. Just….one day. One day you can sit me down and tell me all of the things that seem to make you think you've got bad things coming to those around you." Six rolled back over and settled herself in her blankets again.

"Now, I'm going to go to sleep and hope I don't have nightmares again. I woke up Veronica last night." Six lifted her Pip-Boy to her face and made sure it was muted. She didn't want the radio to startle her awake as it had done a few times before.

"What do you have nightmares about?" Boone asked and Six started chewing on her lip.

"Mostly the Legion, although more recently the Fiends. Cook-Cook. He's dead now, but he isn't in my dreams. It's….not pleasant." She shivered at the memory of the Fiend's hands pawing at her. In her nightmares, it went farther than that.

"I'm sorry about that."

"What the fuck are you apologizing for? I'm the one who moved." She sat up and stared over at him. Not once did she ever blame him for what happened while taking out the Fiends. Her getting captured was entirely her fault.

"I should have stuck by you. I'm your partner. I should have-"

"You didn't do anything wrong, Craig. Stop beating yourself up over shit you can't control." Six insisted. He sighed and she watched him turn and stare out the window.

"Carla said the same thing to me once."

"She sounds like she was a smart woman." Six closed her eyes, listening to the sounds of the Wasteland. She wanted to stay up and ask Boone more about his wife, but she was honestly quite tired. She wasn't sure how much more she was going to get out of him anyways. He was hardly chatty on the best of days.

"Why are you calling me Craig?" Boone asked, just as she was dozing off. She sighed sleepily and rolled over, pulling her blankets up and tucking them under her chin.

" It's your name, isn't it? Goodnight." She murmured, settling into sleep.

"Goodnight, Caroline."


End file.
